Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  “That’s what I meant,” Charles replied. “It’s best for Enclave if Stephen and his ruffians are out of the picture.”

  ****

  Stephen looked out across the city from his apartment. He needed a moment away from it all, a moment to think. If only he could talk with Waltz or Pastor Buchanan. Both dead, he thought. Uncle Bernie crossed his mind. There was a time Stephen would have considered his council just as important. Worse than dead!

  The sun shone over the city. Warm light filtered into his apartment. Relaxing. It was a beautiful day outside. Strange. Especially considering the knowledge that Stephen had about what was taking place.

  His cell phone rang. It was Kaylin.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Stephen. Is Aunt Patty around?”

  “Not right now.”

  “I tried her at the office too,” Kaylin said.

  “She’s at a new office. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remembered this time. It just rang.”

  Strange. “I’ll see if I can get in touch and have her call you. Okay?”

  “Thanks, Stephen. Love you!”

  “Love you too.” He hung up the phone and dialed Patty’s number. No answer. He tried her cell. It went straight to voicemail.

  A loud boom ripped through the air, rattling his windows. He looked across town and saw a large ball of flames turning to black smoke, rising from the warehouse district. “Patty!”

  In an instant, he stood in Outpost. It was filled with smoke. Water poured down from the sprinklers. People were fighting all around. Fallen had blasted their way into the facility.

  Stephen snatched someone up and threw him across the room. “Patty!” he yelled.

  He ran through the halls, checking room after room, fighting Fallen as he went. Clinks and clanks filled the air as weapons smashed and sliced. How had this happened?

  He stepped into the armory to see Tallou slumped against a wall. Stephen stooped down to check on her.

  “I’m fine. But hurry! They went that way,” she said, pointing deeper into the armory vault.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Bernie and Elizabeth,” she replied.

  Looking up, he realized that particular vault was where Escalibor was kept. In one sense, he felt relief. If Fallen was after the sword, Patty might be safe. In another, terror flooded his body at the thought of something happening to the weapon that proved to be pivotal to his own successes.

  “Stephen!” Patty’s voice rang out from behind him.

  He looked up. Vincent and Bernard stood on either side of her.

  “They’re after the sword,” she said.

  Stephen helped Tallou to her feet, then shot off toward the vault. The others followed.

  The vault was similar to the family troves in the Hall of Bloodlines deep inside Enclave. It was a small maze, with different rooms jutting off here and there for the different families of Outpost. The final room had been reserved for Stephen alone, to house his personal items he wanted to keep secure.

  They fought past several Fallen as they navigated the vault. As they went, Stephen couldn’t help but think how stupid he was for keeping Escalibor there. He alone could retrieve it from his family’s trove anytime he wanted. Unlike the others, his medallion gave him the ability to vanish and be carried away by the Spirit anywhere in the world, including anywhere inside Enclave—although other medallions could only place the bearer inside an Enclave departure room.

  He kept an eye on Patty, amazed at how well she had adapted to having abilities. It seemed she grew stronger, much like him. She even generated a shield, effectively stopping a flying dagger—something Stephen had yet to do.

  Upon entering Stephen’s chamber, they all stopped. The sword remained in the large concrete block bearing the emblem of the Mighty, where the stone shone blue, the sword had a golden glow, and the shield appeared crimson. Bernie stood to one side. Elizabeth, the other.

  “It won’t come out of that stone,” Stephen said. “Even if it did, you couldn’t wield it.”

  “No hug for your Uncle Bernie, huh?”

  Bernard took a step forward before Stephen held his hand out to stop him.

  “I’ll be glad to show you some love,” Bernard said through his teeth. “But I ain’t your uncle. Not anymore.”

  “Vincent,” Elizabeth said, sounding more like the sweet lady Stephen first thought her to be. “Son, come with me. It’s not what you think. Mighty, all they want to do is oppress people. We want to free them. Why should they get to make the rules?”

  “God makes the rules, Mother,” Vincent replied. “Not Mighty.”

  Sounding more like a ravenous crazed woman, she continued. “Rules hold people back, binding them with regulations. People should be free to do what they want. We are the supreme beings on Earth.”

  “Rules guide us,” Vincent replied. “They bring order out of the chaos. There is no freedom without forgiveness. Do you want forgiveness?”

  “For what?” she spat, sneering at the group.

  “What do you want?” Stephen asked. “You’re outnumbered. Your people are either being subdued right now, or vanishing back to wherever they came from.”

  “We’re here for this,” Elizabeth seethed, pointing at the sword.

  “I already told you, it won’t come out of the stone—not for either of you.”

  Elizabeth took hold of a war hammer that had been strapped to her back, grinning wryly as she held it in front of her.

  “Break the concrete,” Stephen taunted. “You still will not wield the sword. It only responds to me.”

  “Do it,” Bernie said.

  Elizabeth coiled her body, bringing the hammer up like a baseball bat. Then, she released it with a great swing. As the hammer struck the broad side of the blade, a white light burst forth from the impact, followed by a concussive wave from the explosion that knocked everyone backward.

  Stephen looked up to see a broken blade jutting out of the concrete. On the ground next to it, lay the handle with the rest of the blade. It’s not possible!

  Bernie and Elizabeth got to their feet. “Next time we meet,” Elizabeth said, “will be the last.” Her laughter filled the room as she and Bernie disappeared in a red cloud of smoke.

  Chapter 19

  Vincent’s voice broke the silence. “Are you okay?”

  “What?” Stephen asked, still staring at the two halves of Escalibor.

  “Are you okay?” Vincent stood and reached down to help Stephen to his feet.

  “Y-yeah. I’m okay.” Stephen turned to the others, all of whom were standing. “Bernard, take Patty with you and keep her safe. Tallou, please go with them. Vincent, round up your father, Jax, Zander, Max, Shannon, and Rex. Then do an assessment. I want to know what happened. How did they get in? What damage was done? Most importantly, I want everyone accounted for.”

  “What do you want done with any Fallen that remain?” Vincent asked in his usual stiff tone.

  “We don’t yet have a means of holding them. Have Anthony reach out to Sam. I’m sure they’ll hold them. I doubt we’d get much from the captives, anyway.”

  Stephen looked around the room again, hoping against what he’d witnessed, that Escalibor remained in one piece. He winced at the sight before going to collect the halves—first the one from the floor, then the stone.

  “What are you going to do?” Patty asked him.

  “I’m not sure. But I think I’ll try talking to an old friend.”

  “I love you. Be careful.” She kissed his cheek.

  I love you too. Stephen pushed his thought out to only her. He backed away, then vanished.

  ****

  Just four days had passed since Pastor Buchanan was murdered. Stephen knew he wouldn’t find the preacher in his old church. But he didn’t know where else to turn.

  He sat on the back pew of the empty church building, the same spot he had sat the first time they met. In his hands, he held both halves of Escalibor. He wished t
hat Pastor Buchanan would come through the doors. That wasn’t going to happen. At the front of the church burned a vigil with pictures of their preacher on it. No one there knew anything. Soon, the flock would learn of their shepherd’s death.

  “Lord?” Stephen asked, hoping for an answer. Silence. “I’m not sure what to do. I’m failing. People around me keep dying. Good people. I’ve tried to do what you told me—to find your lost sheep. Many of the Outcasts have joined me. But we’re not enough.”

  Stephen heard the defeat in his own voice. He wasn’t used to defeat. Since his return to St. Louis, however, it seemed each victory was a trade-off, never getting ahead.

  He looked at the sword in his hands. “It’s broken. And it’s my fault. I didn’t take care of it. What can I do without it? I’m not brave. Not like David was.”

  A voice came from the front of the church. “David got scared too.”

  Stephen looked up to see Danny standing near the vigil. “How did you know I was here?” he asked before really thinking it through.

  Danny smirked.

  “Right, you’re Oracle. You see everything.”

  “Not everything,” Danny corrected him. “Just everything the Almighty wants me to see.”

  Stephen stood and walked down to stand next to Danny. He looked at the vigil and decided to light a candle for Pastor Buchanan.

  “David ran from Saul, fearing for his life,” Danny said.

  “So, I’m supposed to run?”

  “I was simply pointing out that David had moments of fear and doubt. He still trusted in the Lord.”

  “You’ve seen all this, right? You know how it ends.”

  Danny smiled. “In a way, yes.”

  “Then tell me! Help me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

  “You mean fighting against Fallen or your own flesh?”

  Stephen looked down at the floor. Was it so obvious? “I’m struggling, Danny. I don’t know if I can keep myself together, let alone others.”

  “If I told you, it would change what is supposed to happen. I can’t do any more than what I’m supposed to do.”

  Stephen sighed. “Will you at least tell me it will all be okay?”

  “It will happen just as the Almighty has ordained. Therefore, it will be okay . . . in the end.”

  Stephen shook his head and looked back at the vigil. He felt Danny’s hand on his shoulder.

  “God has great plans for you, Stephen. Take heart in that.”

  Hearing that was comforting, in a way. It still didn’t show Stephen how he was going to win the battle though, especially without the sword.

  “Would it help if I told you that the sword isn’t the key to winning?”

  Stephen looked at Danny, curious to hear what he’d say next. “Go on . . .”

  “I won’t tell you it’s not important. But it was never meant to be the key to defeating Gregor. You must find a way to do that. It’s a puzzle that you must solve, and you alone.”

  Stephen looked at the sword and held it chest high. “If it’s important, what happens now that it’s broken?”

  Danny closed his eyes and cocked his head. Stephen thought he resembled an antenna being adjusted to clear the picture on a television. Then Danny looked at the sword and held his hands out. “If you’ll trust me with it, I think I can help.”

  Stephen placed the halves into Danny’s hands. “Even if you can’t, please bring the pieces back to me. They feel like a part of me. You know?”

  Danny nodded and held the halves at his side. “I’ll see you soon.” Oracle vanished.

  “Until then,” Stephen said.

  ****

  Charles walked up the rusty metal catwalk as a large number of Fallen went about their preparations below. How much longer would he have to tolerate them? As soon as Stephen was out of the picture and the opportunity presented itself, he would watch his son come into complete power over all Mighty, even if he, himself, had to take out Gregor. What Charles wanted more than anything was for his family name to return to royalty. That wouldn’t happen as long as either Stephen or Gregor lived.

  As he turned into the office, the putrid smell nearly knocked him over. “What in the—” Charles froze upon seeing the dead body lying in the corner. He would not have even noticed Gregor in the corner were it not for the lit end of a cigarette catching his attention.

  “Are you mad?” Charles asked.

  Gregor walked over to the window next to Jonas’s body. He flicked a couple ashes on the corpse, took another puff, then put the cigarette out on the body’s forehead. Taking something from his pocket, he turned toward the outside view. He stood there in silence for a moment. Then, with a slow deep breath, he pocketed the item again and turned toward Charles.

  “Mad? No. He failed me.” Gregor’s voice sounded calm and calculating. “It’s that simple. I’m tired of this fight, Charles. Victory should have been mine long ago. Now, my only remaining joy will come from the death of Stephen. I won’t let anyone stand in my way.” He looked into Charles’s eyes. “Anyone,” he repeated in a low, confident voice.

  Does he know? Charles wondered. He can’t possibly. “I came because I heard the sword is destroyed and wanted to hear it from you.”

  “It is,” a scratchy female voice confirmed from behind.

  Charles turned to see Elizabeth stepping from a shadow in the corner. Though eerie in appearance, he always found her to be strangely appealing, even when they’d been younger. “You were there?” he asked.

  “I was. Bernie too,” she said. “Poor Stephen looked so sad. His poor little toy is broken.” She pretended to wipe a tear from her cheek before turning sour again. “Serves him right! King of the Outcasts, ha! Pompous brat, I say.”

  She continued over to Gregor, running her finger along his shoulders.

  “Is that what they’re calling him? King?” Charles asked.

  “It is,” Gregor replied.

  “You need to end this!” Charles barked.

  Gregor’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “I do?”

  “Yes,” Charles replied, intentionally calmer. “The more people are allowed to think of him as a king, the more will rally to his side. Enclave could split, or worse. It could side with him.”

  “And this has nothing to do with your own ambitions?” Gregor demanded.

  “Of course it does. Yours too!” Charles replied, confident Gregor would hear the wisdom he had to offer. “If Outcasts and Mighty join—”

  Gregor interrupted, while motioning to the window. “Surely you don’t think they can gather the numbers to defeat my armies.”

  “They don’t need to defeat your armies to get to you. If Stephen can give Outcasts and Mighty enough hope—if he can get them to believe—then there’s a chance they could get to you. It’s a small chance, but not one I’m willing to take.”

  Gregor turned toward the window, his fingers laced behind his back, and appeared to be looking down at the multitude gathered, then out to the horizon and setting sun. “Hope is a funny thing. You can use it to crush someone by taking it all away. Allow someone to have just the slightest bit, and they can accomplish great things.”

  He turned back around and looked directly at Charles. “Perhaps we give them false hope and take it away. We’ll crush his spirit.”

  “Then we’ll kill him?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not just yet. I need for everyone to see him fall. Otherwise, he’ll be a martyr, which can be just as bad as him being a king. The battle will take place all over the world on the day of the eclipse. That’s when I’ll meet Stephen in battle. That’s when people will watch him fail.”

  Chapter 20

  Stephen stared at the tower. The minute hand on the clock’s face near the top ticked, and the bell, Big Ben, rang out, signaling noon like an old spaghetti western. Only, he wasn’t in the Old West. He was back in London, in the fog and the drizzle.

  “You know,” he said, turning to Zander, “Patty and I
will have to come back after this is all over. It would be nice to be able to actually enjoy a visit here.”

  “Are you not having fun?” Zander chided, as they continued down the street.

  “Of course I am! What could be more fun than vanishing to different parts of the world to chase down a lead on a person who’s supposed to be somewhere in the vicinity, who may be able to tell us where Gregor, Bernie, and Elizabeth are hiding.” Stephen held his hands up, feeling the rain’s pitter-patter. “Not to mention, the weather is lovely this time of year,” he said in his best British accent.

  Zander grinned. “At least it isn’t too hot.”

  Stephen shrugged. A small, shivering woman passed by, and he heard her thoughts, which seemed familiar. Perhaps it was because she was American. He wasn’t sure.

  Wet all the time! Why on earth would anyone want to live here?

  Stephen smiled as he laughed on the inside. “Right. At least it’s not hot.”

  The two continued around Westminster for another hour or so. They had seen Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the London Dungeons, and more. Nothing looked out of place. Stephen depended on Zander to know the area.

  The two eventually landed back in front of Buckingham Palace. Stephen stared at the guard who was bound by duty not to move. Stephen watched the man a moment, listening to his thoughts.

  Why did I sign up for this? the guard asked himself. At least it isn’t hot. What! Are his eyes glowing?

  Stephen turned away, suggesting they keep looking elsewhere.

  At two o’clock, the two agreed they needed food. Zander recommended they go to Piccadilly Circus, as there were plenty of choices there that may satisfy Stephen’s tastes. Zander hailed one of London’s famous black cabs, explaining it was the best way to go about London.

  Zander was right about Piccadilly Circus. There was a variety of restaurants to choose from—American fast-food, Asian, fine dining, local cuisine, Italian, and more. In the end, he settled for pizza. The goose eggs he had accidentally encountered at breakfast had discouraged him from trying something new.