by James Somers
Varen came very near. “Tell me, priest, where are your gods now? Are they flying to your rescue at this moment? Do I hear the roar of Belial cresting the mountains?” He laughed sarcastically. “No. They have been driven away by my superior weaponry. Right now, Belial is either licking his wounds in terror, or he is slowly drowning in his own blood. Moloch, too, was at least wounded by my soldiers. Has he shown up to fight? Have any of those beasts come to champion your cause?”
Benjamin stammered for an answer.
“I didn’t think so,” Varen said finally.
“Just because they are not here now, does not mean they will not come,” Benjamin said. “No matter what kind of weapons you may have, you cannot kill a god.”
Varen turned. In one swift movement he slashed the High Priest of Belial across the throat. Benjamin gaped at him in astonishment. He clutched at the wound unable to speak. Blood gushed through his fingers, spilling onto the table and the floor. After a stunned moment, the High Priest fell onto the table then slid away to the floor, leaving a streak of crimson behind.
Two of Benjamin’s priests, likely his bodyguards, had attempted an attack upon Varen once they realized what was happening. However, their demise had come even quicker than the High Priest whom they meant to protect. Jillian’s brace was now missing two daggers which she had hurled precisely at the two priests.
Three dead men lay on the floor at the far end of the table. Varen turned to the other leaders of Babale. “How strong is the faith of those who remain?” he asked the assembly. “Will anyone else forfeit their lives for the dragons today?”
Another priest standing near the wall stepped forward. “I cannot renounce my faith in the—”
Jillian planted another dagger into his breastbone from across the room before he could even finish his resolution.
Varen walked back to the head of the table where he had entered the room. “Anyone else?” he asked. He motioned to the last priest in the room; a younger man who had likely not been in for very long. “What about you?”
The young man said nothing, but hung his head shamefully.
“Let’s see a show of hands,” Varen instructed. “Who is with me?”
Hands all around the table began to creep over heads. Finally, Varen saw all of those left alive consent to his rule. He hadn’t doubted it would be so, although he might have hoped for a few more dissenters to make into examples.
“Are you certain you can translate this language?” Donavan asked.
The older man from among Varen’s soldiers stood beside Ezekiah gazing toward the chamber walls rising around them. “Yes, it is the same that was taught to me in my youth by the priest who served in our village,” he said. “I had toyed with the notion of becoming a priest myself, you see.”
“Yes, well, what does it say?” Ezekiah asked before the older man could expound to them his memoirs.
“It speaks of the time before time, when the one God made all things seen and unseen,” the soldier said. “There were many years, thousands actually, of increasing wickedness among men. However, behind this rebellion to the one God’s authority was the angel, Belial. The one God promised to save those men who turned from their wickedness to him. And he promised to one day come, at a time appointed, in order to bring judgment upon Belial and all those men who followed him.”
“Do you mean the High Serpent King was once an angel?” Donavan asked.
“That would explain a great deal,” Ezekiah said.
“But I’ve never heard this before,” Donavan countered. “Didn’t you know?”
“We only have portions of the prophecies,” Ezekiah said. “We know of Elithias’ coming and judgment against unbelievers, of course, but some of the details have been unknown to us. Clearly the priests had the parts we did not.”
“But how did they become dragons?” one of the other soldiers asked.
The older soldier took up the question eagerly. “Actually, I was just getting to that,” he said. “As man’s rebellion grew, the one God brought down fiery judgments against mankind’s civilization, destroying great multitudes, devastating the population alive at the time.
“The one God then cast down Belial from his heavenly realm along with his four generals. He gave them forms consistent with their natures; the dragons we see dwelling among us.”
“I think we know the story very well from that point,” Ezekiah said. “The dragons took control upon the earth and forced the remnants of mankind to worship them as gods.”
“Well, yes, that’s here,” the old soldier said, “but there is more. The chamber writings explain how Belial revealed to his faithful followers the lies contained in the traditions carried down from mankind. Belial, evidently, told his followers that mankind made up the prophecies and the tales of Elithias coming in judgment. According to Belial’s account, he and the other serpent kings really are gods come down to us in the forms of dragons.”
“I wouldn’t expect them to say otherwise,” Ezekiah confirmed. “If you wanted men to worship you, would you tell them the truth?”
“I suppose not,” the old soldier said.
“It’s hard to believe that so many would still follow them,” Donavan added.
“Men are rebels to Elithias,” Ezekiah said. “It is in his nature to go away from him after lies. And lies kill more than anything else.”
A sudden rumble of deep laughter issued from the tunnels around them leading off of the temple. “They certainly will today,” a serpentine voice said.
“The dragons are upon us!” some of the men said, panicking. They searched every nook and cranny of the chamber, peering toward the dark tunnels, expecting death to leap toward them at any moment.
“My, my,” the voice said, “So many tasty morsels in one basket and a prophet as well. Aren’t I lucky?”
“Who are you?” Ezekiah asked. He was trying, with difficulty, to control his own fear.
“Which one should I taste first?” the voice asked, totally ignoring Ezekiah’s question. “Why not simply have all of them? Yes, I think I shall.”
PREY
Some of the men were frozen like rabbits, while others twitched on the razor’s edge between control and total panicked abandon. “Which one is it?” one of the men asked, searching every flicker of shadow cast by the ignited lamp oil encircling the chamber.
“Be quiet, so we can hear,” Ezekiah demanded.
“We need weapons as well,” Donavan said.
The soldier in charge of the others, Thane, looked at Ezekiah, scrutinizing him.
One of the others, Wallace, jumped between them. “Thane, we can’t trust them,” he said. “They’ll gun us down and escape.”
Ezekiah looked Thane in the eyes. “None of us will escape without the help of all,” he said. “We’re in this together.”
Thane considered him. Wallace attempted to interject again, but Thane shut him down quickly. “Don’t lecture me, Wallace.” He threw Ezekiah and Donavan rifles he had carried on slings over his shoulder. “We all fight to get out of here alive.”
Wallace grunted his disapproval then turned back to watch the tunnels. A deliberately raspy breathing reverberated around the chamber. Its origin was impossible to determine.
Thane quickly showed Ezekiah and Donavan how to fire their weapons. A blur of motion brought a cry from across the chamber. The others turned with their guns trained upon the spot where one of their fellow soldiers had just been standing. There wasn’t a trace of him left but his weapon on the ground and a splash of blood.
“Jesen?” one of the soldiers queried. “Jesen!”
Distant noises echoed back to them, but the man did not reply.
After a few fearful moments, the dragon spoke again. “So tasty and warm. The bones tickle my throat on the way down. Still, I’m so hungry. How many other tender, juicy things shall I enjoy today?”
Ezekiah and the others scanned the room in every direction for the slightest hint of the dragon. He had never
spoken with any of the Serpent Kings and had no idea which one this might be. Even worse was the possibility that all of them might be holed up in the mountain and come to feed. Still, most of the dragons were too big to come into this chamber.
“Everybody into the center of the chapel,” Ezekiah commanded.
The soldiers looked at Thane for only a moment before obeying Ezekiah’s order. Thane skeptically followed the rest of the men in taking the prophet’s advice.
“The dragons are too big to get in here,” Ezekiah explained.
“If we stay out of its reach—” Thane finished as the light of understanding dawned on his face.
Firelight danced with shadows upon the chamber walls as Ezekiah, Donovan and the soldiers stood together facing the exit tunnels with their weapons held ready. Scratching sounds echoed around them along with the sounds of the dragon’s breathing. The men shifted, terrified, waiting for something to leap at them, and hoping the beast would simply go away.
“What’s the matter, little rabbits?” the dragon asked meekly. “Do none of you wish to play? Come to me now, and I may show you mercy.”
No one moved.
Suddenly, they heard a great rending of stone deep in the corridors. A scuttling followed then a block of stone twice the size of a man came hurtling through one of the tunnels beside the altar of sacrifice. The stone smashed into the huge laver of burning oil, dashing the bowl to pieces. The oil rushed out immediately, carrying the burning fire with it.
The men screamed as flaming liquid spilled around them, rushing over their ankles. They leaped about, trying to get away as their clothes soaked up the fuel and ignited. Soldiers were engulfed almost instantly within private infernos as the burning oil cascaded throughout the chamber.
Ezekiah, Donovan and Thane each leaped out of the oil onto the altar behind them, barely escaping the rushing flame. Their fellows tried to reach safety, but many were already burning to death as the torrent washed around them. The dragon cackled with delight at its handiwork.
Some of the flaming soldiers inadvertently ran near tunnels exits and were snatched away in a flash by brilliant green claws. Thane stood grimacing as he watched the men under his command dying around him, consumed by flame.
“So crunchy!” the dragon said over the screams of dying men. “I must have the rest.”
“We’re going to die,” Thane said as he looked back to Ezekiah.
The prophet stood, emboldened. “Not yet,” he said. “We came in by a way that had no intersecting tunnels large enough for one of the dragons to fit through.”
“We leave the same way!" Donovan said, standing.
Ezekiah took the lead, leaping from the altar of sacrifice to one of the wooden pews lining both sides of the temple. The fire licked along the wood, but had not had enough time to destroy the wood just yet. Thane and Donovan followed, jumping from pew to pew after Ezekiah. Several times the wood cracked and splintered beneath them, but it still held long enough to pass to the next.
They came to end of the chamber where they had previously entered. The smoldering carcasses of the other soldiers remained behind. The dragon shrieked behind them, crashing its body into the rock. The green-scaled forearm of Baphmet reached through one of the tunnels, clawing at the surrounding rock, attempting to break through after them. The burning oil clung to the dragon’s arm, but it hardly noticed.
Ezekiah, Donovan and Thane ran out through the temple entrance, following a burning rivulet of oil trailing down the tunnel before them that provided scant light at best. Still, Ezekiah was glad for any help they might get at the moment. He found himself praying as they ran. The image of himself running after Gwen and their future children played in his mind, comforting him with the knowledge that he should survive all of these things, if the vision was held true. Desperately he tried to remember if he had been maimed in any way in the vision, suggesting that something would happen prior to cause him to appear so.
Before he realized it, they had passed the exhaust vent that had led them in a steep climb to this place. They were running down the sculpted corridor used by the priests. It would lead them to whatever entrance to the mountain that the dragon’s used, but none of them knew if the dragons had access to the passage, or not.
“Wait,” Thane yelled from behind.
Ezekiah and Donovan halted immediately, fearing that the soldier had spotted Baphmet coming upon them. Thane held up one of the canvas bags the soldiers had been carrying with them as they set explosive charges in various places along the way.
“I’ve still got this,” he said.
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not blow myself to bits,” Donovan said.
Thane reached into the bag, producing a detonator. “Varen made sure to give me one, so I would be able to blow the charges myself in case of an emergency.”
“But we’re inside the mountain,” Ezekiah said.
“And we’ll never have a better chance to rid mankind of these beasts than right now,” Thane said.
“Varen will never defeat the dragons this way,” Donovan protested. “Didn’t you see the images on those walls? We’re not dealing with mere animals. These creatures are fallen from Heaven itself.”
“Varen has commanded—”
“At least wait until we’ve exited the mountain,” Ezekiah said. “Following this corridor, we’ll soon reach the secret door used by the priests.”
Thane hesitated then nodded. Ezekiah wasted no time. They tore off through the tunnel again, still following the trail of flame flowing away from the deluge at the temple. Around them they heard muffled shrieks and yells. The dragon had not given up trying to find them.
They ran as hard as they could and soon spotted the end of the trail of oil burning ahead. It had slowed to a trickle at this point. Beyond, laid a straight corridor with jewels embedded in the stone walls. Priestly decoration present here and nowhere else gave Ezekiah pause. They had passed the burning rivulet of oil, arriving in greater darkness beyond. As hoped, the darkness allowed his eyes to catch scant sunlight coming through what appeared to be a set of large wooden doors not far ahead.
Ezekiah turned to the others coming up behind. “We’ve made it!” he shouted. Donovan arrived with Thane close on his heels. An emerald-colored arm the size of a tree trunk shot out from an adjacent door, slashing madly at Thane. The big soldier reeled back firing his gun at the dragon. Bullets impacted with reptilian flesh. Baphmet howled furiously, withdrawing the hand.
Thane staggered backward for a moment then stopped, looking down at his chest. Fresh blood cascaded down the front of his torso. He looked up at Ezekiah and Donovan. “I think he got me,” he said then collapsed backward onto the stone.
Ezekiah and Donovan rushed to his side. “Thane,” the prophet shouted. “Thane?”
Thane opened his eyes again. Blood had gathered in his mouth, threatening to choke him as he tried to speak. “I’m done,” he spat. “Take the detonator. Get out of here and blow the charges.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Donovan said. He tried to lift Thane by the shoulders.
“No!” he protested. “Leave me...before it’s too late. Kill them!”
Thane thrust the detonator switch into Ezekiah’s hands. “Do it. Please.”
Ezekiah nodded then stood. “Come on, Donovan.”
Donovan looked at him, bewildered, but he complied. He ran past Ezekiah toward the doors.
Ezekiah stooped again. “Have you made peace with Elithias, Thane?”
The soldier nodded.
Ezekiah watched him only a moment more before Thane motioned him on. “Go...while you can.”
The prophet followed after Donovan, catching him as the preacher opened one of the doors to the mountain. Ezekiah raised the detonator as they ran down the winding path beyond. He turned the switch, changing the light from red to green. His thumb hovered over the trigger.
Thane lay in the dark corridor, gasping while his lifeblood seeped out of his body onto the
ground. He was lightheaded already. The dragon’s claws had gouged deep into his chest and belly. Soon he would be dead. Nothing could stop that now.
He thought about Ezekiah’s question. Had he made peace with Elithias? Thane knew he had lied to the prophet. Nothing had ever proven to him the existence of any gods beyond the damnable serpents they had all served for so long. Even now, at his death, Thane still could not bring himself to believe.
Heavy breathing, beyond his own, caught his attention. A green-scaled snout protruded through the side door where the great claw had come through to mortally wound him. The nose sniffed the air. “I smell fresh blood in there,” Baphmet cooed. “Oh, to have a taste of it would be very nice.”
Thane struggled to muster the last reserves of his strength. “Come and get me you devil! I curse you and all of your kind!”
Baphmet hissed as the snout quickly withdrew. One of the dragon’s great arms reached into the corridor again as it had before. The claw raked the ground, carving deep gouges into the stone floor near Thane’s resting place.
Thane clutched the remaining explosive charges close to his body, soaking the canvas bag with blood. He could feel himself slipping away. The claw came near. He kicked at it with his boot. “Down to the pit with you!” he cried.
Baphmet’s emerald hand snatched at him, clutching his leg. Thane cried out. His bones were breaking in the dragon’s iron grip as it seized him, dragging him toward the doorway. The lights on Thane’s explosive charges changed from red to green. Thane smiled for the last time.
RISEN
Jen stared out of one of the windows in her ward. Guards watched them like hawks from a safe distance with high-powered guns trained on them. They had even managed to build makeshift barricades to hide and shoot from behind while the priestesses of Belial remained hostages at the far end. The window itself was too small for any of the women to fit through. But it had allowed them to see their city overtaken by Varen’s forces down below.
