Zeh-Ahbe’ had often prayed with Kevin and he was well liked by the people. Despite the fact that Zeh-Ahbe’ and his clan of former werewolves were all Christians and had been Baptized in the Spirit, for some reason they were still unmarked by God. Most of the men and women in Kevin’s camp wore a tattoo of a sword on their forearm which appeared naturally. It was the source of the holy, flaming sword the Christians had become known for in Grinden.
The werewolf tribe, for some reason, could not draw upon the sword of the Spirit as could most other believers. They could, like any other Christian, read the Word inscribed upon the blade and the blade did not harm them, but the spiritual disability had sapped much of Zeh-Ahbe’s confidence. He felt grieved every time he saw the scald markings of the Say-awr’ upon his palms. He and Kevin prayed that it would be taken from him, just as Rashnir’s marks were taken from him, but they remained, much to Zeh-Ahbe’s frustration.
“My friends,” Kevin said, welcoming them into his tent, “I have just heard from the Lord. He has spoken to me about my concerns and given me guidance.
“He has shown me that, at this very instant, Luciferians are rioting in the streets of Grinden. Anyone with Christian ties will fall under attack. All of our people will be returned safe, but the Luciferians are killing each other with false accusations.
“You all know one of my most pressing concerns is how to respond in the face of adversity: do we resist these physical attacks and allow ourselves to be struck down for the sake of the Lord and let our lives, and our deaths, serve as an example to those around us—or do we respond with force and use the weapons He has given us as a means to protect ourselves. I mentioned earlier how this worked on Earth; every time a Christian is martyred people are drawn to the message of Christ’s sacrifice.
“On Earth, there were prisons full of the hurt and lost. The Christians’ jailers gave them a captive audience to the message of salvation and it spread like a flame.
“Something that the Lord impressed upon me is that there are none of these prisons, here. Prisons exist, sure, but these opportunities will not. There is no time left for this realm. We must preach and we must not relent; a deadline is slated for destruction and the less we proclaim the truth, the more people will be damned in the end.
“The Luciferians are drawing a hard line against us because of the threat that we pose. Prisons are not an option. God has shown me a glimpse of the directives laid down by the demon overlords; if any professing Christian is captured, he will be put to death immediately, disgracefully, and not suffered to speak. They have spread rumors that we can speak spells so that any listening minds will be utterly convinced, captured by some rogue magic, and that’s how we have spread our message. In reality, it is the Luciferian spell casters who have done exactly this.”
Kevin paused for added severity. “If we are not immediately executed, the only other fate that we might await is a gagging, or removal of our vocal anatomy before being feasted upon, alive, by the council of demon overlords or paraded as a mute trophy in their courts.
“It is because of these things that the Lord instructs us to fight in our own defense and let the Holy Spirit be our individual guides. Perhaps some of us will be required to lay down our lives as an example, but this is not our norm. Because of the urgency of time and because of the wholly separate nature here, He commands us to defend ourselves.
“We must be unapologetic proclaimers of the gospel.” Kevin smiled, “Our commission cannot be fulfilled if we are dead. The Word says, ‘For, "Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved." How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? How will they hear without a preacher? And how will they preach unless they are sent? As it is written: "How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the Good News of peace, who bring glad tidings of good things!" But they didn't all listen to the glad news. For Isaiah says, "Lord, who has believed our report?" So faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.’
“People must hear the Word and we must stay alive to proclaim this message. I heard a missionary once ask the question, ‘Doesn’t every man, woman, and child deserve to hear the Gospel at least once so they can make their own decision?’ If we have to fight to protect ourselves against those who wish to destroy the Truth, then fight we will.
“Rashnir, God has a purpose for you. It might be for you to fight for Him, it might not; that is between you and God and I am sure that He will guide you.
“The Lord left me with a sense of hope and peace; I saw how we will exit this plane. I tell you this now, because I have also seen battle and war. I fear that the demonic forces of this realm will rise against this message of hope for man. I have no doubt about it. Their very existence and way of life depends on them crushing us. It is ironic, in their seclusion since before the flood in Noah’s day, the demons trapped here have almost completely forgotten God’s Word. They don’t realize that even if they manage to destroy us all, this realm will still perish in flames, regardless of all of their combined power.
“If I perish before the end you should know the way. The western gate is unmistakable; it’s beyond the west-most tip of the neighboring continent, rising above a sea of chaos. On the horizon across that sea, you will find two vast trunks of stone: the spires of the gateway. When the Lord brought me there in my vision we stood on the edge and walked across the water to the spires. By our faith, our Master will save us.
“The seas there are furious, ever churning, winds raging. Ships cannot get near. Nothing can fly there; the surrounding atmosphere boils. We Christians will walk across this sea as if it were polished stone; the waves and wind will not affect us. Between the monoliths lies a gateway: a door leading through the supernatural passage connecting the kakos with Earth.
“If I fall to an assassin’s knife or some other way continue on without me. Lead the people to that place and escape the flames. Kyrius, Jorge, I want you to promise me that if all looks hopeless, if it looks like you are about to die, I want you two to fly to the west and save yourselves from annihilation.”
The angels nodded their heads to his request. “I cannot promise that we will do this,” Jorge said, “But I tell you that we will consider it. If all Christians have sent their souls onward and we can find no other believers, we will return to our Creator. But as long as even one of our Creator’s beloved ones still draws breath, we will continue with the mission.” Kyrius nodded his assent.
“Please, take no unnecessary risks on our behalf,” Kevin said. “Our pain in death will be temporary; your nonexistence will be forever, and I have become fond of you two.”
“Perhaps,” Kyrius jested, “you should have been more of a grouch. Maybe then we would’ve been more willing to abandon you for certain demise.”
The group laughed at Kyrius’ joke when someone tapped on the tent flaps. A report came to them of the persecution in the city. As Kevin already predicted, all of their friends had escaped to safety.
***
Evening laid a shadowy veil over the Christians’ makeshift settlement when Havara returned that next evening. He towed several horses behind his steed; Havara was wealthy enough that he found expense trivial if it sped up their journey to Xorst. The prince greeted Kevin and Rashnir as he approached.
They’d already prepared a tent for the prince and helped him unload any supplies he’d purchased for the impromptu trip. Havara insisted on funding their entire cost for the trip and the horses were gifts for Kevin to keep after the journey.
Once settled in, Havara told his hosts about his country. Rashnir already knew much about Gleend; he’d traveled there on a few occasions with the Rangers. Havara’s country was an amalgam of races but consisted primarily of men, elves, and dwarves.
Gleend’s parliament met in the capital court of Xorst where all three races had equal representation in the governing body. That assembly could make strong recommendations to the
king, though the parliament had no real power to make or pass laws; it reflected the mood and desires of the people. The king sometimes did things that the parliament would disagree with, but such was politics. Regardless, keeping the three races in happy cohabitation was a constant source of stress for the crown; the delicate balance required fine-tuning on a regular basis. The fact that the Luciferians had disrupted that balance with social politics made it easy to see why the royal house expressed an interest in their chief opposition.
Gleend, as a chunk of land, was well suited to hosting this mix of races, though it had been much larger in eons past. Currently, the large triangle of land bordered Ninda, below it, and abutted the eastern sea with miles of coastland. Ninda’s western border ran the course of Jand’s eastern line. Where the northeastern corner of Jand met Ninda’s northwest corner was the southwest corner of Gleend. If those two countries hadn’t split centuries ago, they would make a single country about two-thirds the size of Jand.
Civil war forced the split long ago and Ninda formed its own country. Ninda had no monarchy but was divided into multiple districts, each ruled by a local Lord who had representation on a democratic council. Nindan politics had a reputation for cutthroat gambling and dark-room deadly deals because of the constant political deal-making and breaking. The council was lucky if a government meeting ended without nearing the brink of a civil war similar to the one that birthed the agricultural district.
In preparation of the travel, Havara unfurled a map of the region and pointed to relevant landmarks and handwritten notes on the parchment. Relatively fresh scribbles marked areas of potential unrest where the Order had stirred mild dissent, citing Luciferian causes; dashed lines connected those scribbles to points in Gleend’s neighbors and one line went west and off the map, presumably to Briganik where the Temple of Light stood. Rashnir made a mental record lifted from the scroll, though some notes, such as the line terminating at the Ziphan border with the note “Who is Ly’Orra?” made no sense to him.
Havara explained that while Gleend’s neighbor, Ninda, consisted primarily of agriculturally developed land, Gleend’s topography and trade was more like Jand’s. Gleend had a little bit of everything: commerce, agriculture, mining, transport, etc. The river skirting the southern edge of Grinden, the Rashet River, originated in eastern Gleend. The Rashet was one of the primary shipping routes from Gleend; it passed through Ninda and then cut through the southeast corner of Jand, passing right by Grinden before it emptied into the sea. The waterway connected the economy of Gleend to that of Grinden, the hub of most land travel and shipping lanes.
The terrain in Gleend was varied. The westernmost corner of Gleend contained the capital, Xorst. Through Xorst ran a huge rift, some kind of massive scar through the bedrock. Citizens claimed that the chasm was bottomless, although it was common knowledge that the fissure emptied into the Drindak Canyons where the depths of the breach rose up to form the floor that spread across the base of the Drindak Canyons. The canyons were a system of buttes and plateaus and even mountains which rose up from the floor’s subterranean base. Sheer cliff walls edged the canyons, dotted with villages carved directly into the stone long ago by dwarven craftsmen. Likewise, where the buttes and plateaus spiraled upward, stone stairways and tunnels connected the mesa cities to the grounds of the canyons
The canyons and the mountains that rose up from the natural walls were full of dwarven cities. On the eastern side of the mountains, the great Rashet River found its headwaters at Lake Rashet. A large forest surrounding the enormous lake, spreading nearly as large as the Drindak Canyons, belonged to hordes of elves. Humans kept to the outlying edges of the country where they built their settlements.
Integration was difficult and the races naturally segregated. Xorst was the only city that saw a true mix of races in equal numbers. Some of the cities on the eastern seacoast came close but the mistrust of the elves prohibited that they allow their numbers to become displaced, Havara explained, giving his friends a snapshot of Gleendish politics.
He grinned as he explained the streets of Xorst and their immense bridges and suspended causeways which connected the roads to each other, spanning the unending chasm which split the city into halves. The prince’s face seemed to light up as he enthusiastically spoke of his great city’s architecture; Havara stuttered in surprise when he noticed the horizon.
It was not the enthusiasm which lit his face. Grinden’s skyline glowed despite the late hour.
The others also saw it, too. A massive fire burned somewhere within the city.
***
Light flowed from the city like an open wound. His minions took joy in ripping open the fiery gash. The flame light flooding the streets mirrored that same intense malice that burned within the acolyte’s eyes.
This one’s name, nearly forgotten since the day he took his vows as an acolyte, was Wynn. He had gladly sacrificed his name and his body to the dread demon lord of the Gathering and the prophet Absinthium. The one thing he had never released, however, was his jealous ambition. Instead it was nurtured and twisted by his superiors.
Wynn was second in rank under the Wyvern Rider and an expert in crafting and wielding alchemical caissons. He could create explosions and violent reactions from seemingly mundane reagents. He looked over his handiwork even now; standing in the shadows he watched with rapt interest as flames engulfed the businesses of prominent Luciferians in the Grinden community. His minions, a handful of goblins loyal to the new goblin king, tyr-aPt’, were perfectly suited to arson. Those goblins had long since scurried down their holes and returned home.
As the acolyte stood, watching the buildings burn, mirth flitted from his heart to his lips. He allowed the creeping grin, even if he knew that he was not likely the first choice for this solo mission. Prock was away on some other mission, sent off by their dark lord. Arson warmed his heart and he refused to let his cold rivalry with the Wyvern Rider taint the joy of this moment. He was not Wynn; he was the Caisson Master, and he was deadly.
Townspeople rushed to the scene. They tried containing the fire before it could spread much further. It had the potential to wipe out an entire city block if it was not stopped. Already, charred corpses lie in flame and cinder near the inferno’s edge. Men and women struggled to haul water troughs to the scene and children pumped water from spigots so that bucket brigades could fight the fires.
Wynn stepped out of the rippling shadows and grabbed a young woman. He covered her mouth from behind and dragged her into the shadows; her bucket fell to the dirt and spilled out, leaving only a wet smear where she had been. She struggled and tried to scream, but in the confusion of the fire, nobody remained close enough to rescue her.
She lay terrified, her back to the ground and her arms pinned down. The acolyte’s strong grip covered her mouth as he held her down, but the woman’s eyes screamed in terror. Her abductor pulled a vial of mysterious liquid from a pouch and pushed his knees sharply into her armpits so that she winced as she tried to cry out. He pulled back his hand and forced the liquid down her throat. She coughed and spluttered, then closed her eyes and sighed heavily. A zombie pall fell over her face.
“Stand,” Wynn commanded.
The woman obeyed like an animated corpse. Her eyes fixed opened, though her pupils had contracted to a pinprick and appeared milky white.
“This is what you will remember,” he told her. “You saw a rogue band of krist-chins in the city streets. They threw their torches in the windows of buildings and vowed revenge for yesterday’s attacks. They tortured and murdered the storeowners and left them to burn in the doorways of their businesses. They had no remorse and would have killed you too. You were lucky enough to escape through an alley.”
Wynn pushed the woman aside as she shambled around in a daze. He climbed a nearby building and watched as the woman’s dementia wore off. Once she grew lucid, she ran to tell the first person she could find; they departed together to tell the authorities.
The acolyte sneered with a maligned, twisted smile. Given just a small foothold, he knew he could push out the Wyvern Rider and rise up as the favored acolyte. Wynn knew that he would someday become the leader of his peers, but until that day came he would burn as many cities as necessary to retain favor with his arch-mage.
***
Havara stood with Kevin and his team. They had each turned their eyes to the city. Their hearts hurt, keenly attuned to the glowing, red corona that illuminated the cityscape. Each knew deep down what it meant.
Miklaw whistled ominously and looked at his fellows. He said what everyone else had been thinking, “You might call it a gut feeling or even just pessimism, but something tells me that we’re gonna get blamed for this.”
***
At daybreak, the odor of smoke lingered in the morning air: borne on eddies of morning fog. Kevin held his morning meeting as usual. As the members of the council arrived, Kevin introduced each one to Havara. After the council had fully gathered, Kevin told them how he had stayed up late and how Havara had joined their number as a believer.
Kevin opened the meeting as he usually did and shared with the group the account of his prayers for direction. He told them of his vision and how the Lord had instructed him how to act in the face of the Luciferian adversity.
“God has reminded us to keep our focus on the ultimate goal, above all else. And we must pass these things along. No person knows exactly how much time we have; train others in case we fall under the sword ourselves.”
He reminded them also of the upcoming outreach that they planned together. Each one at the council assumed certain responsibilities for the event. It was planned for a couple of weeks hence; Kevin explained that this was the soonest possible timeframe because of a brief trip into Gleend that he had agreed to take with Havara. He planned to take a small group with him on this journey.
Kevin singled out Werthen, Kyrius, Rashnir, Zeh-Ahbe’, Shinna, and Nipanka to accompany him on this journey, if they were each willing. In Kevin’s absence, the others would remain behind and continue planning the outreach while ministering to the groups here; Jorge would be the point man overseeing the leadership team, essentially filling Kevin’s role.
The Kakos Realm Collection Page 32
