by Matt Moss
The Rebellion
Matt Moss
The Rebellion
Lucian stood on the training grounds of the Grand Highlands as a soft rain soaked the ground. His mind turned with countless thoughts, but he focused his breath as he was trained to do, attempting to calm his nerves. He pulled some tobacco from a pouch and placed it in his mouth.
What happens on this night will shake the very foundations of this world.
Lost in thought, he walked down the gently sloping hill, his eyes cast towards the nearby mountains and the valley below.
And yet, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Have I made the right choice?
Thankful for a moment’s solace, he journeyed slowly as his mind turned. On the right side of the hill, he stopped on a large, flat piece of ground, tapped a knowing foot on the soggy surface, and spat.
This would make a good spot for the Gauntlet. Maybe when all of this is over, I’ll come back and see to its construction.
Behind him, a clamor of cheers came from the dining hall on top of the hill. He turned towards the sound and clenched his jaw, thinking that this would be the last time everyone would be together as brothers and sisters in the Order.
His feet led him down the hill and into the valley which sat under a gray, darkening sky. Black clouds brewed in the distance, peeking just over the mountain tops.
What if I just left and took Sarie away from all of this? We could run away together. Start a new life.
Out of all the places that were favored in the Grand Highlands, the orchard was his favorite. The peaceful rows of trees that seemed to hide him from the outside world, and the creek nearby that he would often cool off in after a hard day of working the land, rejuvenated his soul.
Heavy rain began to fall.
With closed eyes, he stood among the apple trees and raised his face to the sky.
“Nice evening for a walk, don’t you think?” said a familiar voice with the slightest bit of a humorous tone.
Moses stood in front of him in his gray robe that he always seemed to wear. His hood pulled over his head and a full pack thrown over his shoulder.
“It is indeed, grandmaster. I’m just trying to clear my head.” Lucian cast his head down, his long, dark hair draped around his shoulders, covering the sides of his face.
Moses stepped closer to him. “Understandable given the circumstances. Just know that whatever happens on this night is meant to be. Fate has designed it so. Who are we to discern fate’s hand?”
Lucian met his gaze. “Everyone has a choice. This doesn’t have to happen.”
“Perhaps. But who’s to say that it isn’t for the greater good?” Moses pulled an apple from the pocket of his robe. “There is no way to know. That is why we must trust in fate.”
Lucian shook his head and continued to stare into his master’s eyes. “I’ve come to place less trust in fate’s hand as of late. Fate is dependent on the choices we make.”
Moses took a bite of the fruit and pointed at Lucian. “That is also true. But answer me this, my apprentice; what is guiding those choices that shape the fate of this world?”
“Ambition. Greed. Love; to name a few.”
Moses nodded. “All valid emotions. But those are not choices. There has to be a common thread that connects us all to the happenings of this world. Fate cannot be random; it cannot be unintentional. If it were nothing but a series of rash impulses and emotions that brought forth events and tied it all together, then what would be the point of anything? Everything would be committed to chaos and chance--the world’s history determined by irrational beings. Remember, this world was here long before we were.” Moses took another bite and tossed the apple away. “Emotions from man, and the effects that are brought by them, are insignificant and mean nothing to this world. There has to be a greater design behind it all. Something more than a collective of choices, even.”
Lucian spoke to his master with authority. “Maybe that is the answer, then. One big, crazy, messed up design full of different people and different paths, carving a trail through time and shaping the world we live in. Forging history by a series of actions. Even if mankind disappeared from the world and left it to the beasts once again, could that not be a natural design? Maybe there is no rhyme or reason.”
Finding Moses pondering on his words, Lucian cocked his head at the grandmaster and grinned.
Moses winked at his apprentice. “You have a special mind, Lucian. One that ponders in ways that are not common among many. I am going to miss training you. I’m going to miss our conversations.”
Lucian furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?” It was then that he took note of the full pack that Moses carried.
Moses frowned. “I’ve made the choice to leave, Lucian. I will not choose a side in this.”
Lucian pointed at his master’s shoulder. “So that’s what the pack is for? You’re leaving? I don’t understand. Victor said you were on our side. And if handled properly, with your voice combined with ours, nothing should escalate further. Forcing Paul to step down. No blood need be shed in all of this. Of all the times, how could you leave us now?” he asked, confused.
Moses stared into Lucian’s eyes.
Lucian held his arms out, waiting on an answer, not understanding the old man’s motives. “Why?”
Moses took a deep breath. He spoke. “When words can no longer be a way of reason, force must be used. I won’t be here to raise arms against my brothers. And I will not be here to bear witness to it.”
Lucian crossed his arms. “You’re saying that you won’t talk to Paul? That you won’t let him know of the division in the Order? You can stop this, you know?”
“I have already spoken to my brother, and he already knows of the division. He has known, and he is prepared to do what is necessary. His mind is made up. The soul stones will remain safe, and are not to be used.”
Lucian took a step towards him. “Talk to him again. Please.”
Moses turned his head to the side as he spoke. “You know my brother--the Prophet. He will not step down or be swayed. Not even by me. Violence—to him and to Victor—seems to be the only solution.”
Lucian shook his head. “Then I will speak with him. It doesn’t have to be this way. Violence can’t be the only course of action.”
Moses nodded woefully, pained to disagree. “It is. There is no stopping it. And when history looks back upon this day, there won’t be a question as to whether or not it should or should not have happened. Like everything before us, it will pave the way to a new world, and will become lost in the sands of time.” He met Lucian’s eye. “Remember this; one moment in time is all it takes to shape the course of the world. Just one decision. One action. From one person.”
The grandmaster walked away and stepped into the river. He turned back to Lucian and gave a rueful smile. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe emotions do shape this world and guide fate’s hand.” He waded into the creek, waist deep in the cold water.
Lucian stepped to the bank. “Where are you going to go? Is this really how you leave?”
Moses turned in the middle of the stream and faced his apprentice one last time. “Goodbye, Lucian. May your path lead you to higher ground.”
Lucian shook his head as he watched Moses cross the creek and disappear onto the trail that led through the mountain pass on the other side. Sorrow filled his heart.
Damn you for leaving us now, Moses. When we need your guidance and voice the most.
With anger swelling, Lucian packed more tobacco into his jaw and left the solace of the orchard.
He walked back to the dining hall on top of the hill.
If it came to violence, he would not fight. He would not raise arms against his brothers.
Damn V
ictor, the Prophet, and those cursed stones. I’m done.
Urgency struck him, and he knew that time was running out. He had to find Sarie before it was too late.
As he ran up the hill, the rain stopped and patches of evening blue skies could be seen among the grey.
Inside the dining hall, the Order celebrated their union with the crown. Under the veil of secrecy, unbeknownst to the rest of the kingdom, King Garik had proclaimed the Order his trusted advisor and protector. And Paul the Prophet was anointed the king’s counselor.
Lucian made his way through the crowd, drenched to the bone.
Thomas placed a hand on his soggy shoulder. “Lucian, what the hell were you doing outside in the rain? Dry yourself off and come join us in a drink. This night, above all others, calls for it.”
Lucian regarded him only for a moment. “Maybe later, Thomas. Have you seen Sarie?”
Thomas took a drink and leaned onto him, intoxication taking over. “No, I haven’t. Should I have?”
Lucian broke away and searched the room.
Tables covered in food made up most of the place, and crowded around each one were members of the Order and their families. Many folk lined the bar in search of drink.
Others danced as a band played in the corner.
The dining hall smelled of cooked meat, baked bread, and ale, and if it were any other night, Lucian would have gladly participated in the festivities. But on this night, Lucian had no desire to eat, as everything seemed to lose its appeal to him as of late. He had no desire to drink because on this night, his mind had to be clear. He knew this celebration, for the Order, would be the last. And it would be short-lived.
Part of him wanted to warn his brothers and sisters. But he didn’t know where allegiances lie between the two sides. And he swore to Victor that he would keep his mouth shut.
I just didn’t expect him to go this far. I won’t be here for it. I’m leaving this madness with Sarie by my side.
Lucian walked to the bar. “Billy, have you seen Sarie?”
Billy turned to him, chewing on a chicken bone. “Hey, Lucian. Sorry, haven’t seen her. Come to think of it, haven’t seen about half our brothers yet. Suppose they’re just running late and will be here before long. Never known any of us to miss a meal such as this.” He picked up his beer and put the mug to his lips. A dancing man lost control and crashed into Billy, causing him to spill the ale all over his chest just as he was going to take a drink. Billy looked up, took a deep breath, and turned completely around in his seat. He then dove upon the man, and wrestled and pummeled him onto the ground in a withdrawn fashion so not to do too much harm. Folk gathered around and laughed at the show before Billy was pulled off of the laughing, drunken man.
Lucian turned to leave. As he reached the door, Levi appeared.
“I hear you’ve been asking where my wife is,” Levi said, looking for a fight.
“She’s not your wife yet,” Lucian replied.
Levi shoved him. “Stay away from Sarie. I’m warning you.”
Lucian shoved him back. “Or what? Huh? What are you going to do?”
Levi clenched his fists and stepped face-to-face with Lucian. “Don’t test me, Lucian. I’ll kick your ass right here in front of everyone. And you know I will because you know, just as I do, that you don’t stand a chance. You’ve never been better than me at anything.”
Lucian stared fiercely into Levi’s eyes. “That may be true. But if you know me, like you damn well do, you know I won’t give in without a fight.”
Tension sat thick between the two of them. Levi waited on Lucian to make a move. Lucian looked for Levi to strike first. Onlookers waited on the show.
Torin broke in and separated them. “Both of you back off. Before I kick both of your asses.”
Levi gawked at the big man. “It’s none of your business, Torin. This is between me and him.”
“And Sarie,” Lucian noted.
“I don’t care who it’s between. You two have been best friends your whole lives, and have come too far to do this to each other now. For God’s sake, this is a night of celebration, and here you two are, acting like a couple of little shits.” He pointed a finger at Lucian, then to Levi. “I’m warning both of you, let it go. Go your separate ways and cool off.”
Lucian noted a heavy presence of alcohol on Torin’s breath, and knew the big man wasn’t one to test when he was sober, let alone drunk. Torin was the kind of man that could break your bones without even intending to.
Lucian nodded. “You’re right, Torin.” He looked to Levi. “Sorry, friend,” he said with sarcasm.
Levi paced back and forth, furious. “I’m not your damn friend. Not anymore.”
Lucian stepped around Levi and walked towards the door.
Before he could leave, Levi called to him. “Stay away from Sarie, Lucian. I won’t warn you again.”
Lucian paused but didn’t look back. He left the celebration and continued searching for Sarie.
Seeing a light burning from inside the Prophet’s window, his house not far from the dining hall, he figured it might be his last chance to talk to the man.
Lucian met Paul in his chamber.
“Paul, pardon the intrusion but I have something to say. And we both know that there isn’t much time.”
Paul didn’t reply and didn’t look up as he scribbled notes into the big leather book – The Path of Man. He held a finger up, commanding Lucian’s patience.
Lucian took a deep breath, held his tongue, and took the opportunity to look around the Prophet’s room as he seldom did. Maps of cities that resided in the kingdom were plastered on the walls, and an array of swords and shields decorated the room. Behind Paul the Prophet, a large oaken chest sat locked on the floor, and Lucian knew that it was Paul’s most prized possession—other than the Book— and contained an assortment of soul stones that he’d collected over the years.
Those powerful relics are the cause of this war. They should have never been found. Should have never been taken from where they landed when they fell from the sky. Mankind isn’t designed to wield such weapons.
Paul finished and closed the book. “Tell me, Lucian, what seems to be troubling you? You know what is to come, and have clearly chosen a side.”
“I’m not choosing anyone’s side. I want out. I just want to take Sarie with me.”
Paul shook his head. “My son will not allow that.”
“Have you told him yet?”
“Of the rebellion? No.”
“Why not?”
He reclined. “Because there are some things that people do not need to know--my son, in this case, being one of those people.”
“So that only makes four of us who know—you, Moses, Victor, and myself.”
“And no more need to know.”
Lucian raised a hand, palm up, as he spoke. “We already live behind the veil and operate in the shadows. Must we do that to our brothers and sisters, as well?”
“For the betterment of all, yes.” Paul leaned forward in his seat. “Do you not think this pains me to no end? I never thought this would happen to the Order, but the lines have been drawn; Victor has his supporters and I have mine. His decision stands about this, and you know as well as I that Victor’s not one to be swayed once his mind is made up.”
Lucian held both arms out. “A mutual agreement then. If he wants to use the stones, then why not allow him to? Under strict mandates. Surely you two can find a compromise.”
Paul narrowed his gaze. “He, like many hungry men before him, longs for power and control, Lucian. That hunger can only be satisfied when it achieves its desire. Nothing good will come from the soul stones. That is why they must be kept safe.”
Lucian shook his head. “Victor won’t be stopped. And the Grand Highlands will flow with the blood of our brothers and sisters if you and him don’t come to some sort of an agreement.” He eyed Paul, curious. “Would you kill him if need be? Would you kill your best friend?”
&nb
sp; Paul didn’t even blink. “Without a moment’s pause.”
In the end, friendships mean nothing. Only the desires of ambitious men who are willing to do anything for their cause.
Lucian’s eyes cast down. “Why are we even doing this? Why does there have to be an Order?”
“Quit asking childish questions. You know why. To protect man from himself, and to safeguard his most powerful secrets.”
Lucian looked away. “I’m done. I want out. I won’t fight in this war.”
The Prophet folded his hands. “That is your choice. But you’ve sworn a life of secrecy, whether you are with the Order or not. You cannot break that code.”
And what if I do?
Paul stood. “Have you spoken to Victor recently? Have you seen him?”
Lucian shook his head. “Not for a day or two. Maybe he changed his mind about the whole thing.”
Paul shook his head. “No. He’s here tonight. And chaos follows him.” He placed both hands on the desk and gave Lucian a pointed look. “But make no mistake, the Order will be ready. I have already seen to that.” Paul sat back down and focused his attention back on the book. “There isn’t much time left. I need to record my thoughts before it’s too late.”
Knowing his time was up, Lucian left the Prophet’s chamber and didn’t say another word. He stopped at the door and took Paul in one last time, anger and pity filling his heart as he watched the man frivolously scribble his words onto the page of a meaningless book.
Down the long, dirt steps he walked, overlooking the small town of Grand Highlands below him as celebratory cheers came from the dining hall behind him.
The evening sun sat low in the sky, kissing the day goodbye in a long, warm embrace.
A laughing couple ran past him, drunk in love with one another.
A dog enjoyed a bone from the heifer that was slaughtered for the feast.
Thoughts filled his mind of what would be, of what could be, on this night.
Sarie was all that mattered, and he practiced the words he would say to her.
“There is no stopping the rebellion. Run away with me and I’ll keep you safe. Let the smoke clear and know that time will make amends. We’ll come back, I promise.”
