The Rise

by Nathan Parks

  “Then what would you all have me do? Just sign off on an all-out war on the Clans any Clan members that we can find? To what end?”

  “If I may?” the new face to the group inserted in a strong Irish accent. “I know that I just got here this mornin’. I am very well aware that each of ya have worked together, fought together, and even lost together for a very long time. With that, I hope ya each understand that I am not new to what we do. The Alliance team that I came from has the same frustrations and concerns that each of ya have expressed. There have even been grumblings on how the Arch Council is archaic and out of touch.”

  “Agreed!” Gideon threw up his hands.

  “I ask that ya let me share my thoughts for what it is worth. We can leave this room in a joint understanding of what we plan to do; and true, we could go out—each of us with our warrior heart—and fight. I believe that in doing this, though, we will create turmoil and repercussions that none of us could foresee. This would be destructive to those we are aiming to protect.”

  She clearly had their attention.

  “Another option is to approach the Council with more than just one leader representing the voice of those who do the fighting. Petition them to truly see that we wish to comply to their guidance, but we also are finding that guidance lacking.”

  As she finished, she leaned back; and every head turned in Ki’s direction. The room was his.

  “Well, welcome, Bristol. Talking about taking the horse by the reigns. You fit right into this group,” Ki laughed. “Is there anyone else who has anything to say?”

  No one did.

  “Let me say, I hear you. I hear every single one of you, and I feel the frustration that you each feel. I get it. I have sat in your seats, looking toward this seat. Never did I imagine that we would not have Leah here. None of us ever could imagine that we would find ourselves where we are now. I get all of that.

  “Bristol, I think your suggestions are very valid . . . something I need to think about but, I believe, very valid.

  “One of the last things Leah shared with me before she left was that she thought I needed to get in touch with Isaiah.”

  “Really?” Troy scoffed. “Sure, let’s get him back on the team; and then we can all play a daily game of ‘Truth or Dare’!”

  “Please, Troy,” Ki stopped him. “She has her reasons for making it a point that we reach out to him; so, I am going to. I also am not sure what the protocol is for reaching out to a Vapor, but the Council can teach me later. I am going to reach out to Leah, also, for many reasons.”

  Gideon spoke up, “Before we close out this meeting, can I ask if anyone has heard from Chad or Serenity?”

  All those around the table shook their heads.

  “Have you not heard from them, Gideon?”

  “No. I tried to call them, but over the last few days I received no answer and no call back to any of my messages.”

  Ki thought for a moment.

  “That is strange. Well, if anyone does hear from them or even hears anything about them, please let myself or Gideon know.”

  He pushed away from the table and stood up.

  “For now, keep doing what you have been doing. Let me reach out to Isaiah and Leah, and standby for further instructions. I would like Bristol to go with Gideon. He is the best person to get you spun up on how the Sanctum operates and all the different things we are dealing with.”

  The meeting was over, and each member gathered their things and filed out of the room to go take care of what they needed to take care of. Troy stayed behind and waited for the room to clear. Once everyone was gone, he looked at Ki.

  “I just need to . . .”

  “Seriously, if this is about Isaiah, I don’t want to hear about it, Troy! I have enough stuff on my plate to deal with; I don’t need to babysit.”

  “That is how you see it? Really, Ki? One of my best friends—maybe my very best friend—lives a lie day in and day out beside me. I have issues with that, and then you consider it babysitting?”

  He took the chair he was leaning on and shoved it across the room.

  “Cool it, Troy.”

  “No, I won’t cool it. I am no child, and I will never need anyone to ‘babysit’ me. I also will not work with him, beside him, or do anything with him . . . period!”

  “Fine! Then you know where to turn in your gear, and you understand how to leave the building.”

  “So, just like that?”

  Ki got in Troy’s face. Troy’s eyes were wide, and they contrasted with his dark skin. He had been able to upgrade his implants to the point his blindness hardly was an issue anymore; and it had actually helped his ability to see the supernatural realm better, as well.

  “No, it isn’t ‘just like that’; but Soldier, you aren’t giving me a choice now, are you?

  “You want to talk about war time? You want to talk about serving? You want to talk about all you have seen, done, and then some? Well, come back to me when you’ve spent ages—not just a deployment—but ages fighting alongside one of the greatest warriors to then have them exiled—or should I say ‘discharged’—for her belief that we should be doing more. Then you find yourself in the role of a company commander when you never wanted that role . . . have that happen in the middle of a great conflict! Then have one of your privates come up to you and bitch about how they don’t like their bunkmate! That is what you are doing to me right now!”

  “No! That is not what I am doing. What Isaiah kept from us is far from just complaining that ‘I don’t like my bunkmate.’ The bunkmate is at least on the same team as me and not fighting for the enemy!”

  “You are a child!” Ki yelled. “Name one time Isaiah fought for the Clans or even against us! Once! You can’t! Just because he wasn’t like you or what you thought he should be gives neither you nor I the right to label him something he really wasn’t.

  “I’m not kicking you out; but if you stay and we do work with Isaiah, then I expect you to show him the same respect you would show any other person on the team you are given. If you don’t think you can do that, then you can walk.”

  With that he stormed out of the room, leaving the veteran standing alone.

  Troy gritted his teeth, attempting not to yell out in anger. Loyalty and trust . . . they went hand and hand with each other, and as a soldier he valued both of those beyond anything else. If one had loyalty and trust, then all else fell right into place. One could fight any battle, any enemy, on any front, with any soldier in whom they trusted and was loyal.

  He sat down in the chair he had actually flung across the room. His eyes wandered. The numerous monitors, the cameras, and the ops table that acted as a large computer tablet surrounded him.

  “Give me my rifle, my brothers, and plenty of ammo. That is all I need.”

  He closed his eyes; and in a flash, he was transported back to sand, heat, and the smell of war. He felt guilty sometimes because he missed it, but it had been his world. This new, high-tech, supernatural world in which he found himself could not fill the void of what he had embraced as life for so long.

  Chapter Two

  Sleep evaded her, and she had forgotten how her fervor and passion would cause this. Tanisha leaned back in an old chair, placed her feet up on the desk, and started skimming through more notes.

  Eve was sound asleep in a pew upstairs. Isaiah had crashed out on Gerault’s old bed, which was located in a small and simple room just off the room where Tanisha sat.

  They had spent the last couple of days trying to sort through the notes that Alfonso left for Isaiah, attempting to piece them together with anything that may match Gerault’s journals and notes. So far, there had been no luck at all.

  Tanisha had grown frustrated. This line of study and work required patience, and for the most part she had that; but when it came to something this important, she did not.

  She searched around on the desk, and underneath stacks of research she found her cell phone. She opened up her contacts and
found her husband’s name. She pushed the button for video call. They had not spoken since she had arrived here. She had sent him a text letting him know she was safe and the news about Gerault’s passing. She had assured him that she would be fine, and that at this point there was no need to call. They both were busy doing different things; but she was sure that even though different things, it involved the same thing.

  Zarius accepted the call, and his face showed up on her screen. He looked exhausted, and it didn’t take an expert investigator to see he had some good gashes on his face.

  “What happened?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

  “Meh,” he shrugged. “You know me; I’m always looking for a good fight.”

  She giggled. “True, but usually you don’t get thrashed.”

  “True,” he laughed. “Then again, usually I am not fighting the king of all evil.”

  She quickly swung her legs to the floor and sat up.

  “Wait . . . what?”

  “Long story, but the last couple of days have been long.”

  “You know you have to give me the short version.”

  “I figured. Well, on the way to Eden I got a call from Metatron, who asked me to pick up an Alliance leader who recently chose to walk the way of a Vapor.”

  “Really? Usually the leaders don’t walk away!”

  “Yeah, true, but she is not just your normal Alliance leader. She reminds me a lot of you.”

  “Well, she better not remind you too much of me . . .”

  “Not enough,” he smiled. “So, I brought her to Eden. Got here to find that some Alliance members had brought a teen girl here who just happened to be possessed by Legion.”

  She was getting excited, and it was starting to feel hot inside the study.

  “You fought Legion?” she asked, enthralled. It didn’t even cross her mind to be scared and worried for her husband. “I take it that you won?”

  “Well, I guess you could say that, but at a price. The young lady sacrificed herself to save us.”

  “Oh, Zee. I’m so sorry!”

  “Yep, sure would just like to be at our place right now.”

  “So, was he destroyed, banished, or what?”

  “Destroyed I believe, or at least the portion of him that was left here.”

  “Sweetheart, that is huge!”

  “Yeah . . . so, what have you been up to? Any luck on anything?”

  “Not yet, but I have company.”

  “Company?”

  “Yeah, so the universe is a strange place. I have two Nephelium with me.”

  It was his turn to be surprised.

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, and one is actually a descendant of Rephaim; although I am not sure she is much of a follower of her lineage. She is more rogue and angrier.”

  “Wait, so you have a Nephelium who is not a descendant?”

  Fear spread across his face.

  “I do; but he is not like his kindred, either. He actually has spent most of the last few years as an Alliance member.”

  “Interesting,” he stated. “You are right: the universe is strange. Who would think you would have a Jerusalem Breed, who does not follow her ancestors’ path, and a Nephelium, who is from another child of Marduk, who also does not stay true to what we know of his heritage?”

  “So, they came with journals and notes from another Watcher who the Fallen killed. They believed they were coming for a specific reason. He was also supposed to take over as the Guardian of the vial.”

  Zarius laughed, “The Watchers always held to their own mysterious myths and legends, didn’t they?”

  She shrugged.

  “Who knows? Maybe the vial does exist. You can’t say for sure either way . . . kind of like you and the delta you possess.”

  “True. So, where do you go from here?”

  “Just keep reading and looking for links in the chain. Once found, follow it to see to what it is connected.”

  “Well, be safe. I worry about you and miss you.”

  “How about you?”

  He was silent for a moment.

  “Honestly, I didn’t think much past getting to Eden. Now that I am here, I don’t know. Maybe the ‘next step’ will reveal itself, and then I just go with it.”

  “That is how I am feeling.”

  They spoke for a few more minutes and then hung up. She missed him so much; this was harder than she had expected.

  “Everything good on the home front?”

  Isaiah came walking out of the small room in which he had been sleeping, rubbing his eyes.

  “It is, and sorry if I woke you up.”

  “No qualms from me . . . you know, the non-good descendant.”

  Her face turned red with embarrassment.

  “You know that I didn’t . . .”

  He put his hand up.

  “I’m just giving you a hard time, Doc.”

  “Doc?”

  “Aren’t you like a doctor of old stuff?”

  She could see the grin spread across his face as he plopped down on the other side of the desk. He was joking around with her still.

  “I guess you can say that. I like that.”

  “Good, because I’m going to start using it.”

  He stretched and then leaned forward.

  “So, you have anything you want me to look at?”

  “I wish I did, but I don’t think it would matter right now. Nothing seems to be fitting together.”

  The Nephelium reached over and grabbed a journal from the stack.

  “Maybe we are looking too hard. What if what we need to see is right in front of us?”

  “Well, if it is, I wish it would just scream out to me. Don’t get me wrong; all of this is interesting. I’m learning a lot about the history of the ancients, Nephelium, Angels, Demons, and such . . . but nothing that leads me anywhere.”

  Isaiah held the journal for a moment, placed it back on the pile, and leaned forward.

  “I remember when I was a preacher, some of the easiest, in-your-face answers were literally in front of you; people just didn’t think it was that easy.”

  “Ok, you piqued my interest. What are you suggesting?”

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Gerault sent me some photos of things and asked me to come out to help him translate them.”

  “Did he say that specifically?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did he specifically ask you to translate them?”

  She reached over and grabbed her laptop that was sitting on an old shelf, opened it, and then read the email again.

  “He states, ‘I believe I have reached a place where I need your help on some of my research. I have compiled several things, put them together, and I believe I have discovered something bigger than any of us could imagine. I need you to translate.’ Then he signed it, and that is it.”

  “You see, that is what I mean. You assumed he meant the manuscripts he sent you pictures of, but what if he wanted you to go through from start to finish and ‘translate’ what you think everything together is saying?”

  She sat puzzled.

  “That is what we are doing, though; that is what I have been trying to do.”

  “No, you started with the photos and then tried to link things to those specific manuscripts.” He was getting excited. “Sure, they may be a part of it all; but if we are trying to jump into the middle of a movie that was filmed in a foreign language and has no subtitles, what is the best thing to do in order to figure out what the story is?”

  “Start at the beginning of the movie?”

  He clapped his hands.

  “Exactly!”

  “Where is the start, though?”

  “Well, hell if I know. I just come up with the ideas.”

  She looked around, found a piece of wadded up paper and threw it at him.

  Chapter Three

  “Ok. Seriously, though,” he stated as he dodged the paper, “give me something I
can write on.”

  Tanisha grabbed a notepad and pen and then handed it to him.

  “Ok, show me what you got, Renegade.”

  “No, you don’t get to give me a nickname.”

  “Why not? You gave me one.”

  “I did, and you liked it. I don’t, and so you don’t get to,” he laughed.

  He placed the pad down and looked up at her.

  “So, you tell me . . . where do we start? Where would you start if, metaphorically, this was all a brand-new dig?”

  Now he was in her head. She could think like this.

  “Well, I would ask myself a few questions. First, why are we digging here? What led us here? Who or what was here before us?”

  He motioned around them, “Ok, so answer that with where we are right now; look around.”

  “Gerault was here . . .”

  “He wasn’t the first. Most of what is here was before him, correct? He added to it, but there are centuries of journals, artifacts, and manuscripts here. What is the history? I mean, I honestly know nothing about this place; and here it is supposed to be my new residence if I choose to take up Gerault’s and Alfonso’s mantles.”

  “Well, the building itself was formed to house the crypt of Briccius and has been rumored to have protected a vial of the blood of Christ.”

  He started writing bullet notes down on the notepad.

  “Ok, so that helps. I didn’t know that. I mean, I obviously saw the crypt. Who was Briccius?”

  “He was a Danish knight to whom was supposedly given the vial by Watchers who were living in Constantinople. The stories state that he was told to protect it until given the word to pass it on to a new protector.”

  “Did he?”

  “Well, if the stories are true, he did not. He was killed in an avalanche on his way home. Later, his body was discovered by some farmers.”

  “And the vial?”

  “Legend states that he had a very deep wound on his leg. When he was trapped by the avalanche, he realized he was going to die. He placed the vial of blood inside the wound.”

  Isaiah shuddered, “Why in the world would he do that?”

  “Who knows? Maybe because he knew that his body would be delivered to the church, and he hoped that the vial would be found. I don’t know. All of this is legend and myth.”