The Age of Apollyon Trilogy (The Age of Apollyon, Black Sun, Scorn)

by Mark Carver

  Commander Deyron snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Sleeping in class are we? Or plotting our escape?”

  Before he could stop herself, Christine’s cheeks glowed.

  The commandant snorted smugly. “I can assure you, little princess, that you are going to tell me everything I want to know, and then I will mercifully send you off to be with your father. But before that time…”

  He cracked his knuckles loudly.

  “…There will be no mercy.”

  ****

  Julian looked up at the crucifix leaning to the left upon the altar. It had previously been inverted with its heavy base fixed to the top of the cross. Using an iron candlestick, Julian had battered the base of the unholy icon until it had more or less been bashed away. Then he found a large goblet made of brass. Setting the crucifix aright, it now served as the first holy icon in the reclaimed Vatican City. Julian had lit several candles around it and watched the flames shimmer and dance like excited children flocking to see their father who had just come home after a long absence.

  That’s what it felt like, in more ways than one. Julian knew it was just a piece of metal, but seeing the image of Christ in this darkened place seemed like the first ray of sunshine after a heavy rainfall. Of course, Father Shen’s sudden appearance spoke of God’s providence, but this simple image made this place seem like a church again.

  Julian looked up, studying the intricate arches that soared above his head, intersecting at exact angles, then swooping back down and merging with the columns on the opposite wall. It was like being beneath a canopy of stone trees.

  What incredible marvels man can make in the name of God, he thought.

  His eyes darkened. And so it shall be again.

  But this time, it wouldn’t be grand architecture or timeless musical compositions. No, Julian Rossa Monte’s masterpiece would be the cleansing of the world, the purgation of the Satanic pestilence.

  Then his breath caught in his chest.

  If you are going to pull off such a grand achievement, what are you going to call yourself?

  He remained there, kneeling before the off-kilter crucifix, his hands open as if pleading for an answer.

  Master Ko’s gentle footsteps tapped against the stone floor behind him.

  “Father,” Julian said as he whirled around, “I need a name.”

  The elder halted, blinking with confusion.

  “Your Holiness?”

  “I need a name. Every pope chose a name that wasn’t their birth name. There was always some significance, some symbolic meaning in the names they took. I’m not…”

  He looked down at his hands. Hands that were practically tingling with power.

  “I’m not Julian Rossa Monte anymore. I need a new name.”

  Master Ko nodded slowly. He hadn’t considered this before, and Julian had a point. He was about to state his agreement and request some time to come up with a few possibilities when Julian spoke up again.

  “You know what Father… I don’t think I even want to be called ‘Pope.’ I was not chosen by the conclave of cardinals, I have no prior authority in the church… I am just a humble man who has been chosen by God to do great things. I need a name that reflects that.”

  Master Ko threaded his fingers together and stared intently at Julian. Then something behind him caught his eye. There was an upright crucifix standing in a large brass goblet, like a comically large toothpick in a sacramental martini glass. A shadow passed over his eyes but he banished it immediately.

  “You are absolutely right, Your Holiness,” he said, turning his gaze back towards Julian. “The word ‘pope’ does not suit you, but not because of your lack of stature in the ranks of the church. The word ‘pope’ denotes a man who people believe is ordained by God but is still chosen by men in a petty election system rife with political wrangling, backstabbing, and deal-making. You, on the other hand, were blessed by the Holy Mother in front of the entire world. Jesus Christ Himself was declared to be God’s son when a dove descended from heaven while He was being baptized in the river Jordan. I know it sounds almost like blasphemy, but in a way, you are also a kind of messiah for our church.”

  Julian staggered as if struck. “Father,” he said with a trembling voice, “I could never claim such a title. It belongs to Jesus Christ and Jesus Christ alone.”

  Master Ko held up his hands, a gesture of surrender but also a plea for Julian to hear him out.

  “I understand your concern, and I do not mean to equate you with our Lord, but think of what you have already done, Your Holiness. In one day, you have decimated the seat of Satan’s power and breathed new life into our church, which has risen up all over the world to do battle with the forces of evil. This building was surrounded by men and weapons and now they are piles of ash blowing across the square. Jesus Christ is the ultimate messiah, but you have saved our church, Your Holiness. Make no mistake about that.”

  Julian’s eyes fell to the ground, then slowly traveled up to behold the leaning crucifix. He almost felt ashamed to look at it.

  “What shall my name be, Father?”

  Master Ko raised his chin, staring at him with eyes of fire.

  “You shall be called Julianus Secundus Christi.”

  Julian’s knees suddenly felt weak. His very soul wanted to lash out, to denounce this blasphemy, to run and hide from the terrifying responsibilities that were rolling over him like a giant boulder.

  But he didn’t. He just stood still as candlelight flickered across his face.

  Julianus Secundus Christi.

  Julian, the second Christ.

  He barely dared to think the words, let alone speak them. But like a flame slowly growing and intensifying, he felt the warmth spread through his soul. “Christ” was merely the Greek word for “messiah.” After all, wasn’t it the truth? Did he not liberate this sacred place from heathen clutches and hold an entire army at bay with the power of his faith? Were not the children of God rising up across the world and confronting the devil-worshiping hordes? By whose hand had these miracles been accomplished?

  The Second Christ. The next messiah following in the footsteps of the first.

  Julian gripped the edge of the altar to steady himself. He felt as if he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

  “Your Holiness?” Master Ko said with genuine concern. “Are you all right?”

  Julian nodded weakly. “I’m fine. It’s just a bit of a shock to share the same name with the Son of God…”

  Master Ko smiled darkly. “I wish I could say I understand. Instead, I can only assure Your Holiness that this title is well-deserved. Our Heavenly Father has elevated you in the eyes of mankind, and you need a name to signify your status.”

  “You’re right, Father. But I must make it clear to everyone that I’m not equating myself with Jesus Christ. That will be the first thought on everyone’s mind.”

  “Only the minds of those who do not speak Latin, Your Holiness. I can assure you that the full meaning of this title will be immediately clear to the priests and bishops when they arrive at the Vatican.”

  Julian’s neck twitched as he remembered his own edict. “Oh yes, I had forgotten about that.” He rubbed his chin. "I really don’t know what to do when everyone arrives.”

  Master Ko bowed slightly. “Leave that to me, Your Holiness. My contacts are extensive and I can have Vatican City fully staffed and operational within a day.”

  Julian’s eyebrows shot up. “Even with everything going on out there? We’re surrounded…or at least we were…”

  Master Ko’s olive-colored cheek creased with a lopsided smile. “Your Holiness, leave these trivial details to me. You should spend time in prayer and seek guidance for what is to come. I don’t mean to sound ominous, but this is only the beginning of something incredible. And it will not be easy.”

  Julian sighed and glanced back at the crooked crucifix. “I know, Father… The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. It’s hard to con
centrate with the possibility of heavily-armed men bursting through the windows at any moment.”

  “I have lived a long time, Your Holiness,” Master Ko said, “and I have become quite an adept predictor of human behavior. If an assault was being planned, it would have been carried out already. The day brightens with the new dawn, hardly the time to stage a covert operation. Besides, they are too terrified to move against you.”

  “How do you know?”

  Master Ko’s eyes twinkled despite the low light in the room. “As I said, I am an excellent predictor of human behavior. You are safe for now, but I will not waste any time bringing helpers for you. Guards, cooks, servants, carpenters… We will have this place shining like a polished jewel in no time. When the church leaders arrive, they will bear witness to the miraculous change that will have transformed this place. Vatican City will once again be a beacon of light, not of darkness.”

  Julian’s heart swelled with these words. He nodded and drew himself to his full height. “Do what you must, Father. I give you my trust and my blessing. I will meditate and seek the Lord to direct the steps of our awakened church.”

  Master Ko bowed low. “Thank you, Your Holiness.” He turned and left the room, his robes whispering against the floor.

  Standing alone in the vaulted room, Julian tilted his head, as if listening to the echo of the elder’s parting words. He was Julian Rossa Monte, the Second Christ, the new messiah, sent by God to cleanse the world. The very thought seemed to liquefy his muscles and his bones quivered with nervous energy.

  He turned again to the altar and knelt before the crucifix resting in the large goblet.

  “Thank You,” he whispered. “Thank You for choosing me as Your instrument of judgment Fill me with Your righteous wrath and let me unleash Your fury upon the blasphemous hordes who wish to harm Your children. Let me not seek my own glory, but do not let me deny the incredible gifts that You have given to me. Let all who look upon me tremble with conviction, and I will send a river of souls to face Your judgment I am Your humble servant, and I will do anything that You ask of me.”

  He bowed his head low until his forehead touched the cold marble floor. When he raised his eyes again, he gasped.

  The woman in white reached out her hand. Julian stared at it, at her long delicate fingers and smooth, unlined palm. Her flesh seemed to glow beneath her porcelain skin. His eyes quickly dropped down again, and his arm muscles trembled with the strain of supporting his own weight.

  “Holy Mother…” he gasped.

  The woman in white touched his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared into her gleaming eyes, set like two flawless jewels in the loveliest, most gentle face he had ever seen. The white shawl that hid her hair seemed to pulse with heavenly power and her brilliant robes glowed warmly. Julian’s soul wanted to sing and weep at the same time, but all he could do was tremble.

  “Julianus Secundus Christi,” the woman said in a voice that sounded like rippling water, “rise up.”

  It was as if an electric hand suddenly thrust between his ribs and seized his heart. A surge of power rushed through him and he rose to his feet, feeling as sturdy and immovable as a tree.

  He looked up at the woman in white, then lowered his eyes in reverence.

  “Thank you, Holy Mother.”

  The woman folded her hands in front of her and regarded him with a gentle maternal expression.

  “You have done well, my child, but the true hour of your testing is yet to come.”

  “What must I do, Holy Mother?”

  “Pray. Pray and be on your guard against attack.”

  Julian glanced towards a small cross-shaped window set high in the wall. Light from the blossoming dawn was beginning to pour into the room.

  “But Holy Mother, they know they cannot hurt me. Even now their bones are scattered across the – “

  “I do not speak of attacks upon your body. I am speaking about your soul.”

  Julian frowned at his feet. “My soul?”

  The woman nodded, though he did not see. “You have commanded the leaders of the church to assemble here, and they will be arriving soon. But you must know that there are vipers hiding in the grass. There are those who would seek to tear you down and throw the church back into the fires of confusion and strife.”

  Julian’s heart was pounding. The strength he had felt earlier started to wane.

  “How can I know who is my friend and who is my enemy, Holy Mother?”

  “It is easy to know a tree by its fruit. Those who deny the miracles you have performed and who doubt the sincerity of your heart are to be cast out. You know that you have been chosen by God, and the world must know it too. There can be no doubt as to your intentions and your power. There will be those who will demand more signs and wonders, and you shall give them. But you must not tolerate dissension. Anyone who speaks out against you is poisonous for our church and should be silenced. Publicly.”

  This last word seemed to hover in the stillness of the morning air. Julian slowly raised his eyes and was surprised to see how much softer, more human she looked. Perhaps the shock of being visited by the mother of Christ was beginning to fade.

  “I will do as you say, Holy Mother. I know that there will be those who speak against me within our ranks, and I will make sure that they do not infect those with pure hearts. I do not wish to be a tyrant or a self-serving, decadent emperor like so many popes before me. The safety and prosperity of our blessed church is the only thing I care about, even above my own life.”

  The woman in white leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Julian felt every nerve in his body tingle like sunlight dancing on water.

  “You are a brave man, Julianus Secundus Christi. Your name will ring down through the ages as the savior of God’s people, leading them to a glorious age of heaven on Earth.”

  It was too much to bear. Julian fell to one knee, slamming his palms against the ground to keep himself from collapsing completely.

  “Holy Mother…”

  The woman in white knelt down and wiped the tears from his face.

  “You will prevail against all adversity, dear child. God has anointed you with His power and made you the master of the sun. No one can stand against you and you will cleanse this world. Believe in yourself and God will reward your faith.”

  Julian wiped his eyes, feeling ashamed of his uncontrollable emotions.

  “What about Father Shen?” he asked. “He seems like a good man and I trust him, but I hardly know him.”

  “Father Shen is indeed a good man. Do not concern yourself with his loyalty or ability to do what he says. Give him your confidence and you will reap the rewards.”

  Julian smiled. He felt like a young prince who was about to be crowned king of an empire.

  “Thank you, Holy Mother. Part of me still worries that this is all just a dream, that I’m just a humble monk in a monastery somewhere, hoping that Christ will return and end this nightmare.”

  The woman smiled thinly, her lips tight. “No one knows when that will happen, but I can assure you that this is no dream. The charge has been passed on to you, the Second Christ, and you will carry the church forward into this new age. Protect your heart and listen only to God’s voice. He alone has the power to direct your course.”

  A heavy yet grateful sigh slipped from Julian’s mouth, and he raised his eyes to look upon her beautiful face.

  She was gone.

  Julian glanced quickly around the room, feeling pinpricks of fear against his heart. But he soon relaxed, or at least became less tense than he was before. His hand slowly rose to his face and trembling fingers brushed his cheek where she had touched him.

  The mother of God had touched him.

  He turned his eyes towards the leaning cross, and suddenly his eyes brimmed with tears. He felt everything, the weight, the terrifying responsibility, the inexpressible joy and indescribable terror of knowing that God’s hand rested upon him.

&n
bsp; So it had been with the first messiah that agonizing night in the garden of Gethsemane. Julian was not facing execution to atone for the sins of the world, but he felt a connection with the son of God that he had never felt before.

  But he was strong. He knew it in his heart. Father Shen was right: to doubt himself was to doubt God, to doubt God’s wisdom in choosing him for such a monumental task. And now, the Holy Mother herself has confirmed it.

  “I am the new messiah,” he breathed.

  His eyes darted around the empty room, as if he were afraid that his words would fall upon hostile ears. Of course, there was no one, and Julian felt himself growing bolder.

  “I am the new messiah,” he said again, his voice gaining strength. “I am the new messiah… I am the new messiah…”

  He marched towards the doors and flung them open. “I am the new messiah!” he cried out. The echoes of his words danced and skittered down the halls and through the corridors.

  Feeling as if he were floating on air, Julian glided into the empty sanctuary of St. Peter’s Basilica. The morning sun was streaming in through the shattered windows, and Julian could almost hear angelic voices raised in song.

  This was no longer the house of the devil. This was the throne room of God.

  He turned towards the fearsome dragon that hovered over the altar, coiled menacingly like a colossal viper poised to strike. He jabbed a finger towards the blasphemous image and he felt the rage and hate welling up inside him, like a bomb ready to explode.

  “I am Julianus Secundus Christi,” he snarled through clenched teeth, “the new messiah, chosen by God. I will cast you down to the depths of hell and you will never rise again!”

  An earsplitting crack echoed across the sanctuary like a gunshot. Julian flinched, then watched in amazement as the support beams holding the giant metal dragon shattered like a dry tree branch. With a deafening metallic crash, the icon smashed through the ruins of the altar and toppled forward, pulverizing the marble steps and skidding to a halt at Julian’s feet.

  Dust particles and stone fragments filled the air and Julian coughed several times. When the air had cleared, he stared down at the twisting metal heap lying inches away.