by Unknown
The rat must have sensed in some way that Levi spoke of him because his head lifted from his grooming to look at the three of them. His nose and whiskers twitched several times as he sniffed the air, before returning to his grooming.
Ethan tried to suppress a smile. “I think he likes you.�
Levi picked up a piece of fruit and shivered at the prospect of the giant rat getting anywhere near him.
“He did save your life you know,� Ethan reminded him.
“He’s right, Captain,� Seth said. “You might have been fermenting in the belly of a Kung lizard right now, were it not for our new friend.�
Levi accepted the reminder grudgingly. “Yeah well, he still gives me the creeps just looking at him.� He tossed his piece of fruit over his shoulder. “Here’s a thank you for your trouble.�
Dung caught the fruit as if he’d simply been waiting for the captain to finally toss it his way. He chattered a moment toward Levi, then ate the fruit.
Ethan smiled. “See, I told you he likes you.�
Levi rolled his eyes. “On to business, lads. We need a plan of action.�
Seth straightened up. “I agree. It will be very difficult to get Gideon away from Rommil—especially once he reaches the mainland and Mordred’s army. In fact, I think we should prepare for the possibility that we might not be able to rescue Gideon, at all.�
Ethan almost gasped at the suggestion. “Of course we’ll get him back. It’s the Lord’s will for us to get him back.�
Levi gave Ethan a puzzled look. “Why would you say that? There’s nothing written concerning Gideon. We know the Word tells about you as the Deliverer, but nothing of this. I like Gideon very much, but the best we can hope for is that it may be Shaddai’s will for us to get him back.�
Ethan looked disappointed. He hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“We will certainly do all that we can for Gideon, but as a priest of Shaddai, he is fully prepared to give his life,� Seth said.
“Well, I’ve defeated Rommil’s brother in the past,� Ethan said.
“I don’t know about his brother, but I can say, from experience, that Hevas Rommil is a very formidable enemy, not to mention Mordred himself.�
Levi scratched at the stubble on his face. “I’d say they’ll be taking extra precautions considering how we invaded the palace before. Mordred won’t allow us to infiltrate so easily this time. And there’s the matter of Jericho.�
Ethan felt his stomach churn uneasily at the mention of the demon.
“Jericho and his demons will be watching for you, Ethan,� Levi said.
“Mordred must realize by now that you will come for him, according to the prophecy,� Seth said. “They’ll most likely set a trap for you, using Gideon as bait. It’s not him they want out of the way, but you. As the Deliverer, you alone have the power to destroy Mordred.�
Ethan turned toward the bow of the ship. Dung had just finished the piece of fruit given to him by Levi. He licked his paws, then looked up at Ethan and twitched his whiskers inquisitively.
Ethan smiled and looked back at Levi and Seth. “Then I guess we’ll have to do something they won’t expect.
UNWELCOME WELCOME
Gideon had been kept for unnumbered days in his cell aboard Rommil’s ship. He had been unable to find any way of escape though he had tried many times. He’d lost count of the times Rommil’s men had come down to the brig to beat him. They had learned by now to keep him in chains for it.
By the time he felt the ship come to port, scraping against the pier, Gideon had lost a great deal of weight. Rommil had only given him enough food and water to keep him alive. Many nights, during the voyage, Gideon had seen terrible visions. He knew demons were with them on the ship, but still the supernatural taunting grew maddening.
On one particular night when Gideon wondered if he could take anymore, a light had appeared which drove away the specters. He had heard a voice emanating from the light which strengthened him with the assurance that Shaddai had not forsaken him. It had been enough.
Now he heard the soldiers coming down the outer hall to retrieve him. When they came through the door, they carried swords and pistols. Though he was emaciated, the soldiers still feared the priest of Shaddai.
Five men remained outside of his cage while two others took keys and removed his chains. The skin had been worn away at Gideon’s wrists and ankles. The soldiers kicked at him to get up, but he barely had the strength.
“Pick him up,� the guard captain ordered. The two soldiers lifted Gideon up and dragged him out of the cell with his legs trailing limp behind him. He tried to walk as they reached the stairs, but it proved difficult.
The sun stung his eyes when the soldiers reached the main deck with him. He’d not seen it in weeks now. Gideon shut his eyes against the glare, but enjoyed the feel of it upon his pale skin. The soldiers brought him before General Rommil, who had been waiting for him on deck. “Well, priest, how are you feeling?�
Gideon didn’t bother with a reply. He knew, of course, that Rommil had no care for his feelings. Rommil had made sure, rather, that he received poor treatment the entire way. He wouldn’t give the Wraith General the satisfaction of his moaning. Instead, Gideon got his feet under him and stood up between the men escorting him.
“I see,� Rommil snarled. “Still some pride in you yet. I trust Lord Mordred will break it from you. He is waiting to meet you, priest.� Rommil turned and walked down the gang plank toward the pier below. The soldiers pushed along after him with Gideon in tow.
They carried him down the pier to a wagon which sat waiting for him. Essentially it was a cage on four wheels. The soldiers unshackled Gideon and threw him inside, all under Rommil’s watchful eye. The Wraith General mounted a black steed, larger and more muscular than a normal horse. The look in the animal’s eye warned that only the Wraith Riders could tame his kind.
The march from the shores of Nod toward the White Palace at the city of Emmanuel began. Gideon turned back to see the ship and the harbor. He recognized it as the same one they had attacked aboard Captain Bonifast’s ship with the mercenary fleet which had ultimately betrayed them. That meant the journey up to the city would only be several miles.
Soon he would meet Mordred himself. By now, Gideon supposed they must have kept him alive for some purpose. Either they desired sport of him through torture, or Mordred intended to use him as bait in a trap for Ethan. Perhaps, they meant to do both.
The procession of soldiers, with General Rommil at the head, wound its way up the cliffs by way of a road paved with stones. The few horses among them clip-clopped as their hooves struck the road. The caged wagon wobbled a great deal. Gideon groaned as his sore body bounced on the rough timbers constituting the floor of his mobile prison.
He grabbed the bars over his head, trying to relieve the pain by hoisting himself up a little. His arms strained and trembled against his own weight. Gideon looked into the sky, closed his eyes, and prayed: for deliverance if possible, but more for strength to endure whatever lay ahead of him in the city of Emmanuel and Mordred’s palace.
The walls of the city stood as tall as he’d ever seen them, but the glory of them was gone. The once-polished, white stone had grown dingy with mold and caked with dust. Great thorny vines clawed upward from the base, thick and gnarled. Gideon wondered if it was a lack of care, or if they had been planted on purpose to dissuade attackers.
Double iron portcullises rose into the upper portion of the wall as their procession approached. General Rommil led them through the gates, but when they entered, there was no applause. Gideon supposed Rommil’s return, along with his
capture, might have given Mordred’s faithful reason for celebration.
When he saw the few people actually roaming the streets of the city, he felt pity for them. There remained no joy in their expressions. Fear had taken residence now. Civilians were in short supply, from what he could see. The military seemed to encompass nearly the entire city now.
As the procession passed through the once-thriving business district, Gideon saw the palace in full view. It too had been allowed to deteriorate. The walls appeared dirty, and the spacious gardens had been left to grow wild, or had been trampled under foot by soldiers. Ivy, mingled with thorns, grew up the sides of the palace walls and it seemed to Gideon that goodness and purity itself was being dragged down into the pit.
The golden statues, wrought by artificers shortly after Mordred’s takeover of the city, stood covered in bird droppings—a testament to their true value.
Gideon saw, to his left, long rows of plain buildings which had been erected on the spacious, manicured lawns. Doors far to tall for a normal person opened at the ends. In the courtyards, where many soldiers trained, he saw the reason for them.
Giants, like those described by Ethan, sparred with one another in tunics of crimson and red. They wielded large maces and clubs, which looked like small trees. Some of them might have been ten or twelve feet tall. And there appeared to be enough of them to make an army themselves. But they were not alone. Thousands of men trained on similar quadrangles all across the city, from one wall to the other, several miles away.
A foul stench of decay filled the city, and smoke billowed into the sky from smelting plants where weapons of iron and steel were being made. Great engines of war filled another part of the city, towering higher than the dingy white walls. Gideon realized Mordred was preparing for battle.
Rommil, his troops, and the carriage all stopped in front of the great steps leading into the palace itself. A royal welcome seemed to be waiting for them. Then Gideon realized it was not for them, but for Mordred himself.
General Rommil dismounted from his horse, then walked back to the carriage holding Gideon. His guards opened the door while others prodded Gideon with swords to be sure he obeyed and came to the exit. He had little choice but to comply. Gideon crawled to the door and outside where the guards chained themselves to him on either side.
Gideon followed as the guards turned to look upon the warlord himself. Mordred sat astride his midnight stallion at the base of the great stairs of the palace. He wore regal attire like that of a king, albeit crimson and black remained the dominant theme. His raven hair fell across broad shoulders from which a stout muscled frame extended.
Gideon couldn’t help but find the man very handsome. He had never actually seen Mordred in person. His natural supposition had been that such a brutal conqueror must be grotesque—a bloated, dingy slob smelling of sweat with most of his teeth missing.
Mordred was exactly the opposite. No wonder people follow him, he thought. When Mordred finally spoke, it only confirmed that opinion. “Ah, the valiant priest from The Order of Shaddai. Hello, Gideon.�
Gideon raised his eyebrows curiously. The guards pulled him toward their master. “How do you know my name?� he asked.
Mordred smiled—every women’s dream, but beneath a nightmare. “You will find, Gideon, that I know a great deal about you—more than you would want, to be sure.�
Now Gideon looked puzzled. What was Mordred talking about—Ethan? The Order’s location? What could he possibly know about him?
Mordred seemed to sense his bewilderment. “Try not to worry yourself about it now, Gideon. There will be plenty of time for you to regret being so careless—plenty of time for you to wish you’d never met me.�
Gideon swallowed a lump gathering in his throat.
Mordred regarded General Rommil, grinning. “But not yet. We’ve prepared a place for you to rest until your official audience with me in my throne room. General Rommil?�
Rommil straightened. “Yes, my Lord?�
“See that our guest is tucked in comfortably. Then you may join me in my chambers.�
Rommil bowed obediently. Mordred turned his stallion and rode down behind the line of soldiers toward the stable. Rommil stepped in front of Gideon and looked him in the eye. He chuckled to himself. “Welcome to Emmanuel, priest.�
Gideon’s face hardened. Rommil turned and ascended the stone stairs toward the palace proper. Gideon’s guards followed the general, forcing him to come along. As they neared the top of the stairs and the great doors beyond, he wondered if he would ever see his friends again. And more importantly, would he ever see his Sarah again?
EDGE OF MADNESS
The special place Mordred had prepared for Gideon turned out to be nothing more than a room of cold stone. They had not descended into the dungeons of the palace, but it bore resemblance. The guards had thrust him in without any chains to bind him whatsoever.
Curious, he thought. Looking around the twenty foot square room, it held nothing at all in the way of furnishings, not even a bed. When the door had closed however, things had changed. As Gideon’s eyes wandered over every inch of the walls, looking for anything that might aid an escape, he happened to look back at the door. It had disappeared.
He blinked. Only stone remained where the guards had been standing moments before. He turned round and round, supposing he’d become disoriented and simply looked for the door in the wrong part of the room. But he had not. The door had vanished completely, as though it had never existed, yet here he was inside the room. No wonder they removed my chains, he thought. I can’t escape without a way.
Gideon fought back the panic welling up inside. Claustrophobia fell on him like a weight. He stopped himself from allowing his emotions to have their way. Reason told him that there must be a way in and out. He’d just come through. Realizing the alternative helped to bolster his confidence. It’s a trick—even if you don’t know how—remember it’s only illusion.
Gideon closed his eyes, then searched the walls inch by inch with his hands. Still he couldn’t find anything to suggest a door. He gave up and sat down in the middle of the floor, trying to relax. The air seemed to grow thin around him. He tried to control his breathing. The feeling of suffocation grew—panic attacked at the fringe of his consciousness again. And again, he had to reason through. “They’re not trying to kill you,� he told himself. “This is an illusion. Demons are involved here—that’s how they can do this to you. Mordred made it clear that you would come before him in his throne room, that you would live to regret it. A dead man can’t do those things.�
It was then that Gideon noticed something he had not before. He could see, despite the fact that the room had no windows, no discernable source of light at all. Still, there was some form of light in the room—dim, as though light particles had simply been suspended somehow. He smiled. “They’re trying to break me.�
Gideon closed his eyes again and made himself believe that there was plenty of air. He thought of the room as a safe haven instead of a tomb. He felt better, calm, hungry.
He opened his eyes and saw a bowl of steaming soup sitting on a plate with a piece of bread. Gideon looked around the room. Had he fallen asleep? Certainly there hadn’t been anyone to come into the room without him realizing it. But there sat the food.
Gideon reached out and pulled the plate across the stone floor to him. The aroma was wonderful. The bread smelled of butter and honey, and the soup looked like a chowder of some kind with a creamy white sauce. His belly groaned and complained, wanting to be satisfied. It seemed so long since he’d tasted food worth tasting.
Gideon took the small loaf of bread in his dry hands. It felt moist and warm to the touch. He broke it open and sniffed at the vapor
s rising through the crust. His mouth watered, and he sank his teeth into it. The sweet flavor rolled across his taste buds like high tide upon the shore. He moaned with satisfaction as he chewed and swallowed the first bite.
Next, Gideon took the bowl of soup and brought it to his mouth. It smelled wonderful. He greedily tipped the rim to his lips, slurping the creamy broth. He let the flavor fill his mouth, then he looked curiously inside the bowl.
Something round rolled over in the broth until the sauce revealed a pigmented ring and pupil within. Gideon forced the soup through his lips, spewing it out. The broth splattered across the stones before him. It had been an eyeball. He dropped the bowl. It scattered its contents across the floor—blood intermingled with the creamy white sauce.
Gideon spit the remnants out over and over again. He caught a glance at the bread broken open on the plate. Maggots festered within. Gideon coughed in spasms, horrified that he’d eaten any of the foul food he’d been delivered. He heaved upon his hands and knees, but he had nothing in his stomach to bring up.
When he finally felt some settling, Gideon looked up again. The spilt food, along with the bowl and plate, had disappeared. Examining the stone floor closely, he found no evidence there had ever been any food at all.
The room suddenly grew cold—so much so, that his breath hung suspended in the air. Gideon’s clothes were little more than rags after the fighting on Macedon and the voyage across the Azure Sea. His teeth chattered, while gooseflesh sprung up all over his arms.
A light shone behind him. Gideon turned to see it and found the stone walls had given way to images. He blinked, but the images remained, unfolding before him. He saw entire cities burned to the ground, the inhabitants strewn in the streets. He saw soldiers in crimson and black torturing the living inhabitants of Nod, husbands taken from their families, children torn from their mother’s arms.
