Rise of Prophecy

by Abdur Mohammed

  Deidra looks at him mockingly, “You’re already rich, what are you complaining about?”

  “My family is rich, not me. My mother saw to that,” he explains.

  Deidra continues her mocking tone, “Excuse me, your highness…Lord Alexius of House Badur, so says Deidra of Bastille Alley.”

  Alexius dips his fingers into his cup then sprinkles her.

  -FAR SIDE OF TEMPLE-

  Humans and goats alike avoid the steep mountain-slope leading up to the temple’s backside. There are some trees rooted deep into the light brown soil. Green bushes sporadically spread out along the area. Pebbles and larger rocks come hurtling down from the monastery’s border wall; not from anything less than the two figures sneaking up the side.

  Making their way effortlessly, Liviana and Mica reach the stone wall perimeter. They rest for a moment under a large bush, observing the patrolling cadets above. There are only three on this side, armed with pistols and enthusiasm. Novice infiltrators may have been intimidated, but not these two; they regard the cadets as a let-down rather than a challenge. The ones they are more interested in are the two Captains.

  “Where are they?” Liviana asks while retracting a climbing line.

  Mica activates his armband. It’s a rather innovative, sleek piece of technology. Wrapped on to his left inside forearm, one would think it is a regular black leather sleeve, and part of his attire. With a gesture a screen lights up, curving around the limb. A fully functioning monitor with three-dimensional capabilities is now active. A simple touch on the surface activates a series of buttons.

  A small dot representing Alexius appears; sonar-like waves emanate from the dot, quickly creating a more detailed map. Some more information appears next to the image, giving a distance, bearing, and other representational data. As if urged on by the invisible waves, dogs howl in the distance.

  Situated a sharp five meters up, a metal gate swings open. It smashes on to the side of the wall, reverberating with the impact. A patch of silver hair appears. Mathias carefully peeks down the incline. He spots the two lurking in the bushes, and then quickly waves them up. A climbing line shoots up, hooking on to a section by the gate. The pair now ascends to the inside perimeter.

  The first to meet Mathias is Mica. He grabs the old man’s hand, pulling firmly, trying not to topple him. Liviana is next. She appears to need less help than Mica but grabs Mathias’ hand. As she enters the gate, her towering stature looks imposing. Mathias drops to the ground.

  Liviana quickly, but gently pulls him up, “It has been too long.”

  It could be the exertion, but Mathias is flustered, and tears are forming. “I am sorry; this whole affair came about suddenly,” he explains.

  “No apologies necessary. Get yourself and yours somewhere safe. We will talk soon.”

  “There are three young men on patrol,” Mathias warns. “Shouldn’t be too hard to evade. Now, come.” They duck behind a wall being careful not to alert the Cadets above.

  -DOWN AT THE MONASTERY’S MAIN COURTYARD-

  The slow setting sun has finally dropped below the horizon. Bright floodlights shine throughout the courtyard making the entire area appears as if it’s daytime once more. The lights on the main entrance’s wall come to life, staying dim but illuminating the beautiful flowers and plants nearby.

  Tall walls enclose the front gate. There is a paved road from the gate leading up to the central courtyard. Precious orchids and other majestic plants adorn the spaces. Suddenly, a teenage boy and girl run to the entrance. They open the gates allowing two rugged trucks to enter; the mercenaries from Northern Illyria.

  The vehicles make haste to the receiving area, coming to a sudden stop by kicking up dust and gravel. Everyone wants to see the occupants; they are expecting a rowdy bunch to step on the holy ground. Alexius and Deidra calmly stand with Mathias, several Cadets, and some youths.

  The truck doors open, a husky man dressed in black, armed with pistols and daggers climbs out. He doesn’t speak; he waits for his companions from the other truck to join him. Together they march up to Mathias; there are six in total, four men, two women, all dressed and armed alike. Each one has to be over six feet. Their menacing demeanor does not stop the youths from offloading the contents in the trucks.

  “Your holiness. We request refreshments and your prayers,” the lead mercenary says while bowing to Mathias.

  “Of course, my child,” the priest responds. “You are welcomed to the facilities. Please, join me in the prayer hall in let’s say one hour?”

  The man nods then kneels. He kisses Mathias’ hand then touches his forehead. Pleased, he stands and barks orders at his companions.

  “Quite the holy bunch aren’t they?” Alexius whispers to Deidra; she doesn’t respond.

  Four mercenaries enter the monastery with Mathias; two remain with the trucks. The youths complete their task with the last of five crates being loaded onto a flat trolley. They begin to roll the cargo toward the back. Alexius starts walking towards them.

  Deidra is irritated, “Don’t,” she advises with concern. “Wait until they are gone.”

  “Just a look,” Alexius informs her with a cocky smile. She knows that smile; it never ends well for them.

  “Those are mercenaries; no code, or honor. Doesn’t take much to set them off.”

  Alexius ignore the advice. Small gravel crunches under his boot as he briskly walks towards to youths. One of the mercenaries steps in his path. The man is bigger than he is. The merc glares at him, snarling really. All he could do is smile at the man.

  “I’ll wait here,” Alexius concedes. Deidra relaxes her grasp on her pistol. She breaths easy.

  -IN THE TEMPLE PRIVATE PRAYER HALL-

  The lights are dim in this large prayer hall. Although a private one, there is enough standing room for fifty devotees. At the end of a path, an altar stands raised three feet off the ground. The walls are well decorated with tapestries, the five banners of Illyria, and plants, all making the décor quite inviting. Standing just beneath the Northern Illyrian banner are the four mercenaries.

  They patiently wait for Mathias to call them to prayer. The priest is on the altar burning incense and chanting prayers. The crates are sitting beside the altar, being blessed. They see Mathias wave them over. As they begin to head off, a beeping sound emanates from one of the men’s armband. He sends the other three to be blessed.

  Mathias smiles at his guests as they arrive, gesturing them to kneel. He looks over to the fourth man, wondering what was happening. There is a bit of nervousness in his voice, as he chants the ancient prayers. He decides that the wheel of fate cannot be stopped tonight, and if it is his time to travel beyond this realm, then he is more than prepared to do so. The fourth man quickly joins them, offering an uncharacteristic smile.

  The sound of the prayers echoes, traveling to each corner. One of those corners, thirty feet away, conceals a hidden door in the flooring. It leads to a secret room in the ground, about fifteen feet square in size and eleven feet high. It is an old hideout, and an occasional smuggling depository; this monastery was once used by Illyrian outlaws and the Master himself. Now, Mica and Liviana patiently wait in it.

  Mica observes the activities outside as best as he can. The view is not advantageous, but he can see enough movement to know they are still in prayer. He huffs and drops back down to the floor. Liviana sits in quiet contemplation.

  “They’ve been at it for thirty minutes,” Mica grumbles. “How long does it take for a blessing?” he asks rhetorically. Liviana turns to him, her steely gaze informing him to be quiet.

  Ten minutes pass, then, a noise from the only exit alerts them. The door opens revealing Mathias; he smells of incense. The odor annoys Mica but does nothing to Liviana. She grabs Mathias’ outstretched hands and brings him down to her eye level.

  Mathias’ face is a mask of concern, “It’s just as you feared, they are staying the night.”

  “When is the handoff?” Liviana asks.r />
  “Dawn. Not to the soldiers. A transport bound for Atlantis.”

  “Weren’t the soldiers supposed to receive it?” Mica inquires.

  “Yes, according to Archon Inias,” Mathias responds. “The mercenaries just now received new orders from Prince Timon himself.” He looks at Liviana, who is quite annoyed.

  She intended to steal the chest from the ill-equipped and ill-manned soldiers. It would have been an easy task, with little collateral damage. Mathias would be exonerated, as it would be reported as a robbery by agents of the Master, and the soldiers would serve as witnesses. Now, there will have to be bloodshed, inviting the scrutiny of Prince Timon of Atlantis.

  “That little prick always wants to be one step ahead of me,” Liviana declares, her annoyance showing on her face.

  “If all goes well my son will be at Demon Rock, you know the place. He has men you can trust,” Mathias informs them.

  “My tracker died,” Mica says. “Where are the soldiers?” he asks Mathias.

  “Two in the main hall, the rest are patrolling.” He looks at Liviana, almost pleading “They are just children, surely you won’t…”

  “The grown ones aren’t,” Liviana cuts him off. “There are no innocents here.” She looks at Mathias. She gently places her hand on his face; he closes his eyes, melting with emotion. “Flee this place Mathias; I cannot have your death on my hands.”

  “I have severed these long years. I welcome death for it is the only true friend I have yet to embrace. I love you and your father. It will be an honor to die in service.”

  Liviana kisses him on his forehead. She then pulls out her daggers to check the blades. Mica checks his pistols. Not wanting to be left out, Mathias checks his prayer beads.

  -TEMPLE MAIN HALL-

  Adjacent to the private prayer hall is the main hall, which is separated by a solid wall; the echo accentuates the grandeur of the space. Only Alexius and Deidra lurk quietly in the area. They sit comfortably on the wooden benches, regarding the scattered sculptures and tapestries. There is an air of defeat between them, more so Alexius. With his grand plan to liberate some riches already soured, he has resorted to just doing his duty; merely waiting for the Atlantean transport to arrive.

  Deidra tries to hide her intoxication, “Accept it, it’s over.”

  “You’re right,” Alexius admits with defeat in his eyes, “But we did have some good wine.” Deidra smiles for the first time tonight.

  He moves closer to her, noticing a bit of wine stain on the side of her lips. He licks his hands and then wipes the side of her mouth. Tenderly he rubs, and she doesn’t resist. Maybe it’s the foul drink, but the needy wench seems to be coming out; her skin is becoming flush, and her senses are heightened. She leans in closer, ready to plant a passionate kiss. As she moves in, Alexius’ hand moves to her lips, stopping her.

  He is listening to an echo; there is a faint sound coming from the private hall. A louder crash alerts him to trouble. Now aggravated that someone else is stealing his treasure, he decides to make one last effort to get what he can; the thought of doing his duty may have entered his mind, briefly. He takes off running with Deidra following closely behind.

  It doesn’t take them long to enter the area. They arrive on the scene to find one mercenary dead, two are fighting with a cloaked figure, and the last one is engaging a thief who is almost at the crates.

  Liviana expertly blocks the large men’s blows. She grips her daggers tightly, waiting for an opening; the moment one man’s elbow drops, she swings her blade high slicing his jugular. The second attacker is now behind her reaching with his arm over her shoulder, attempting to grab her neck.

  Not missing a beat, she breaks the man’s arm. She flips him over her, and with a sharp plunge, brings a dagger hard down through his throat. She pulls it free, and then launches it at Mica’s attacker, hitting him squarely at the brain stem. The mercenary instantly falls twitching to his death.

  The soldiers rush both thieves; Mica is at the crates, and Liviana is twenty feet away, making her charge towards them. They spit up, with Alexius heading for Mica and Deidra contending with Liviana.

  Deidra throws her punches hard, but with no effect; Liviana is moving as if she is the air itself. Their arms connect with Liviana blocking the oncoming swing with her left arm. She quickly pushes Deidra with her right hand, getting a short distance between them. It is enough for her to land a powerful kick to the soldier’s chest, sending her flying several feet off the ground, and then smashing into a wall; the impact knocks Deidra unconscious.

  Meanwhile, Alexius reaches Mica who at this point has smashed open the largest crate. He grabs the smaller man before he could remove the contents. They begin trading blows, but Mica is no match for the larger soldier; he is getting beaten.

  In a split second Liviana moves clear across the room to Mica’s aid. She separates the two men and engages Alexius. This gives Mica a chance to grab the partially exposed chest, and then flee.

  Unable to effectively do much else, Alexius tries to land a powerful punch on Liviana. They seem matched in strength, and this causes a slight panic in the soldier. Her grace coupled with strong blows and counter-attacks, makes her moves seem rehearsed. Somehow, Alexius manages to barely stop Liviana from landing a deadly blow.

  His attention is on her hands, but as her hood drops revealing her face, he becomes distracted. This is enough for Liviana to rise in the air to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to his face. This sends him reeling across the floor. His eyes are still open, and he glances at Liviana across the room. In a split second, she is gone; it must be a trick of the mind, he thinks.

  A barrage of muffled gunfire can be heard quickly reducing in tempo, and then goes silent. Alexius shakes off his beating then rushes to Deidra. She is slowly waking; he helps her up.

  “Hurry,” he urges while pulling her up. They both run to an exit.

  As they clear the structure, they see several Cadets on the ground unconscious. Alive thankfully, Alexius reassures himself. They continue running towards the monastery’s main area. A fool would hope to think they can catch the intruders. They still try, but as they already know, it would be too late.

  The receiving area where the trucks were parked is now littered with unconscious Cadets, two dead Mercenaries, and a busted vehicle. Smoke is coming from the remaining truck, and the tires are shot up. There is no hope of chasing. Deidra mumbles to herself, cursing the pilot who dropped them off, Damn Inias and his no waiting rule, she fumes.

  Mathias appears from a door. He rushes out to the Cadets to help them up. He suspects what will happen next. The Archon Inias will send for him, and he will have to answer for what transpired.

  Chapter 05: In Hot Water

  Anew day always brings the promise of routine at the Atlantean base; studies, physical training, and assigned duties…not today. The garrison is graced by a distinguished Commander of the Forces of Atlantis, Andros. His armed transport sits ominously on the landing ramp with seasoned soldiers stationed nearby.

  Curious cadets pass by admiring the handful of troops in blood red and black uniforms. These are the men and women they aspire to be one day, serving as infantry, pilots, and infiltrators…all proud members of the greatest fighting force in the world. Today these veterans serve as escort to Commander Andros; his assignment, to retrieve an important shipment, now stolen.

  In a restricted section of the garrison, one building is surrounded by armed guards. Trees overshadow the structure with moss and wild vines running along the walls; indications that this part of the base has been all but abandoned. It now serves as an interrogation area for the priest Mathias.

  The Archon Inias’s car arrives, stopping rather slowly at the front entrance. It is the only one there, bringing some relief to the priest that Commander Andros has not yet commenced his interrogation. Andros was known to be brutal, and part of his psychological tactic was to make a prisoner ponder the horrors to come. Inias was not that kind of beas
t.

  As he exits the vehicle, there is an air of sadness in him. Mathias, after all, is a member of the priesthood, a colleague and a friend. Circumstances have forced this eventual predicament, and as Inias knows in his heart, the outcome of the interrogation is inevitable death. The question that looms with him was if and when his demise would come. He is an Archon after all, and it would take an order of the Priesthood, ratified by the Senate of Atlantis to request his death warrant. Rules never seem to apply to Prince Timon, he reminds himself.

  He enters the old building alone, walking with purpose trying to hide his anticipation of events from the few soldiers posted there. They are his charges, but with Andros’ arrival, he has been relegated to nothing more than an agent of the priesthood, holding no more power than Mathias. He arrives at a cell, and the guard opens the iron door.

  Inias enters the dusty and damp room looking at the old priest with affection. Mathias sits in a corner, looking at his friend as he enters. Sunlight streams from an oval window overhead, with the rays only shining on a small edge of the wall. The door closes as if predicting Inias’ fate.

  “Mathias you old fool. What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “I don’t suppose you have any wine?” Mathias asks with a smile. Inias shakes his head. “I thought not. Well, it shall be a thirsty death then.”

  “I’ll get your wine. You do know I can’t help you with this. I’ve always turned a blind eye to your, activities.”

  “Whom do you serve Inias? Atlantis or the priesthood?”

  “How dare you ask me that?”

  “We are agents of the past my friend. Not the collection of the self-righteous, self-serving, parade of idiots of the present. This age is at an end, and prophecy shall have its day.”

  “Nonsense. Stories told by the ancients.”

  “Maybe so. Would you rather take the chance that you are wrong?”

  Inias sits on the ground with Mathias. He puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tries to reason with him, “Please, tell Andros what you know, maybe he will show mercy.”