The False Prophet (Stonegate Book 2)

by Harry James Fox

  “Thank you for your efforts,” said Don. “You and your mounts look exhausted. Be sure and rest for a few days. That was an epic ride! Tell me, how did Danny learn of this?”

  “A spy in Junction heard the name mentioned in a meeting. Danny’s men got a message from the spy, knew what this meant, and sent a messenger to him at once, apparently.”

  It struck Don that the only person who could have disclosed the location of Owl Hollow was Bobby. Since he hadn’t slipped out since the night in Castle Rock, Don knew he must have told them no later than then. But for the word to have reached Junction, then Danny, then carried for nine more days, that was unsettling. It meant the enemy had known for some time. And that meant—that Owl Hollow may have already been attacked! He now feared for Philip who was probably riding into immediate danger.

  “Lord Don,” continued Daniel, “I know that you are concerned about Owl Hollow. Surely there is some way to get help to them!”

  “I understand,” said Don. “But our mission is to unite the East against the planned attacks of the False Prophet.”

  “But this is reaching a crisis point,” insisted Eli. “We must somehow send some help to Owl Hollow immediately. Tension is building all over the Empire. Especially since some Christians who refused to deny their faith have already been executed.”

  Don was stunned and could feel anger rising within him. He looked up to heaven and silently prayed for the persecutions to end.

  “I have no way to help defend Owl Hollow,” repeated Don. “Would that it was otherwise! They have a large cache of ancient ammunition there.”

  “Defending them is one thing. Warning them is another. Is there truly no one you could send?” asked Eli. “If not, I will go myself. Owl Hollow must be warned.”

  Don thought for a moment. It was true that they should warn their friends that the enemy had known of their retreat for a long time. And the cache of ammunition was profoundly significant. If it fell into the enemy’s hands, it would be a disaster. Eli’s skills as a healer would be needed when the conflict began. On the other hand, he knew exactly where Owl Hollow was located, and he could go there directly. He would not waste time searching blind alleys. But he was not a fighter. What should I do? The choices all seemed equally bad.

  “Eli, if you wish to go, then go,” said Don, finally. “Leave your mule, and we will give you a fast horse. Of course, you can’t go alone. My bodyguard, Colin, will ride with you. But Owl Canyon has already been warned, unless Philip was too late. Ride to Haven, instead, and tell Lord Blackie the whole story. He will know what to do. Ask him to send an entire horse troop, if not two. The ammunition must not fall into enemy hands.”

  The Diné scout insisted on going with them, which seemed sensible. Within a half-hour, Colin, Eli, and the scout were provided with the fastest horses that they could find. They were given some provisions to tie behind their saddles. Colin left his mail but kept his sword, helm, a bow and arrows, and a leather jerkin. With “God Speed!” ringing in their ears, they galloped off, following the same trail earlier taken by Philip.

  Daniel and Don watched them go. Don could not shake the feeling that he had only made matters worse—that he had sacrificed two more of his friends. But he shrugged the matter aside. He had work to do and could do no more for Owl Hollow. If he had a pigeon, he could send a message to Ariel and ask them to send horse troops to the rescue. But he had none. Colin and the others were their only hope.

  He turned to Daniel. “Will you stay and help us persuade Longmont to defend against the invasion?”

  Daniel agreed to stay for the meeting. It had been planned for mid-afternoon, tomorrow, as many people went to church in the morning. It was a Sunday, and Longmont had many Christians who kept the faith. Suddenly, an inspiration came over Don. He would bring his troops to the Sunday service. The best thing they could do that morning was pray.

  †

  The pastor allowed Don and his troops to attend the service in full armor, something that had never been done before. They all remained standing in the rear of the meeting hall. Don did not know the words of the ancient songs, but he noticed some of the troopers joining in from memory. A song saying that God is a mighty fortress was especially appropriate and gave him much food for thought. The sermon was from the book of Hebrews. Don was struck by the phrase, “Our God is a consuming fire.”

  After the church service, the men found themselves surrounded by curious parishioners. “Please won’t you stay for lunch?” one lovely lady asked.

  Don relented, enjoying the company of people of the old faith. “Well, we are holding a meeting in the town hall at mid-afternoon. But I’m sure my men would prefer spending time here with you rather than eating at the inn.”

  “You must be sick of inns with all your travels,” said another young lady named Beth. “I insist you stay and try our homemade cooking. The fried chicken and potato salad is just delicious.”

  Don had to admit it sounded appetizing. The people of Longmont were friendlier than he had been led to think, and the pastor turned out to be a pleasant and hospitable host.

  “We have been fearing trouble for a long time now,” he said, seating himself down next to Don. “But we have a firm belief that the one who Carl the Elder prophesied about is coming soon. He will save the Empire from the evil hold of the False Prophet—no doubt about it! We have seen signs in the stars and the heavens that Carl the Elder said would appear, just before the time that the chosen one will come.”

  Pouring Don a glass of cold punch from one of the many carafes on the table, the pastor, known as Pastor Levinson, invited Don to help himself to the banquet placed on the tables. The meal included various platters of cold, sliced meats, salads, buttered bread, smoked fish, and, as promised, the famous fried chicken and potato salad. Don helped himself to a variety of foods as the pastor continued to speak.

  “It is a strange thing that you have come to us now, just about the time that the chosen one is prophesied to appear—the key to Stonegate.”

  “Well, we’ll be heading off to Stonegate, after the town meeting,” said Don, enjoying the many different dishes, all delicious.

  “Interesting…interesting,” said the pastor. “Maybe you will be fortunate enough to meet the chosen one when you arrive there. You know there is an old poem written about him. It goes like this:

  Under a waning springtime moon

  Bearing a blade with a northern rune

  Riding under a scarlet doom

  Through the stone gate came the key.

  By an arrow’s shaft set free

  Lordly honor’s debt the fee

  Far from the Savior’s tree

  From wisdom to war turned he.

  Weaned from ink to write in blood

  Turned an evil into good

  In a Lady’s keep he stood

  From a twisted love fought free.

  From the West, the darkest hour

  Scorched the fairest eastern flower

  Raged at the stone-wrought tower

  To claim the victor’s fee.

  In the crisis of the night

  The Bright Spirit won his fight

  A man in weakness found his might

  To form the Army of the Tree.

  Burn like a flame, O burnished blade

  Over the land that God has made

  From you all evil flees afraid

  Turn defeat to victory.

  The words “from wisdom to war” resonated in Don’s ears. Could it be possible that he was the one? Could it be possible that he would turn defeat into victory? Chills ran up his spine, as he thought about his past, his life as a man of knowledge, a lore-man, and now as someone who had learned the skills of not only fighting, but also leading an army.

  “You never know what y
our destiny is,” said Pastor Levinson. “It is all in the hands of the heavenly Master.”

  Don fell silent as the pastor continued to speak. If this actually refers to me, how does Rachel fit in? It was all very confusing but he knew that he had to first concentrate on the meeting in Longmont. The delay was hard to bear, since he could hardly wait to ride to Stonegate. Surely, Samuel would have straightened things so he would be welcome once more.

  “So, you see,” continued Pastor Levison, “we must have faith that good will overcome evil and that the False Prophet will fall.”

  †

  The meeting at Longmont drew an enthusiastic crowd. By the time that Don and Daniel had finished addressing the townsfolk, dark clouds had gathered in the western sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance, accompanied by streaks of forked lightning. The people of Longmont agreed to unite against the enemy if the other eastern towns were willing to work together. How many they could raise for their levy was yet to be seen.

  Don hoped Philip and the others would not be delayed by the storm and that the rain would not follow him and his troops as they headed north to Stonegate. There would be no sleep tonight. He decided to rejoin with Samuel as soon as possible since they kept hearing reports of Raiders in the area.

  “Get ready to ride,” yelled Don to his men, as the first drops of rain began to fall upon them.

  Chapter 16

  †

  The Long Trail North

  Do you give strength to the horse? Do you adorn his neck with a mane?…His proud snorting fills one with terror…He charges into battle. He laughs at fear, since he is afraid of nothing; he does not run from the sword. A quiver rattles at his side, along with a flashing spear and a lance.

  Job 39:19-23

  Señor Reuben Ramos led his thousand-strong force to the northeast, crossing near the old city of Santa Fe. Little more than a village, it had once been the capital city of a vast domain. Now it slumbered peacefully below white-tipped peaks to the north. They passed within a few miles but did not detour to the site. Too few men were there to give aid to their mission, so they pressed on, lances raised as if to catch the ruby rays of the setting sun. Storm clouds hung dark and damp to the north, but their trail was dry.

  Four days into their journey they continued their fast pace up a grassy plain, the trail now leading due north. The purple mountains stretched across their path on both sides like a brooding barrier. They spotted several herds of cattle, but vaqueros hastily moved them away, keeping a respectful distance. They obviously wanted no part of what looked like trouble.

  As they neared the pass called Raton, they met a messenger on a sweaty horse who led them to the force of Diné warriors encamped near the summit. Danny Yazzi was there with the largest force his people had fielded in years, nearly five hundred strong. Together, they made a formidable cavalry unit, well-armed, trained, and ready for what lay ahead.

  Reuben had organized his men into large units of about one hundred men each. He knew that Danny’s men were organized into raiding parties, with no definite number in each. Despite the differences, every man knew his place and his mission. The leaders conferred for several hours, discussing supplies, the order of march, and security. The more lightly armed Diné would act as scouts, flank security, and rear guards.

  The Sonora baggage train was discussed with concern. It moved much slower. It already lagged behind the main force by at least fifty miles. Lightly guarded, it left them an uncomfortable choice. Either they slowed their march, or they left much of their food behind, vulnerable. So they had to take a calculated risk. Waiting or slowing their pace to that of the wagons was not an option.

  They intended to continue their move north at all possible speed, but they did not assume the way was clear of enemy. To the contrary, they intended to take every precaution, as if a superior force was just over the next hill. They were probably the strongest force within three hundred miles. But they would remain on guard.

  †

  Reuben and Danny dismounted and conferred briefly. They knew that time was pressing, but they also knew that they had to arrive with their troops and horses able to fight. It would do no good to press so hard that the men were exhausted and their mounts worn down. The Diné horses were better conditioned and not as heavily burdened.

  “I hate to admit it, Danny,” said Reuben, “but my lancers will not be able to keep pace with you. Let me request that you range out in front of us as a screening force. Should you run into the enemy, simply delay them and withdraw. We can form the heavy strike force, though we can’t travel as fast. I am sorry to delay you, but it seems wise for us to stay together.”

  “We know your big horses are carrying a heavier load,” said Danny with a smile. “Let it be so. You set the pace, and we will watch ahead and to the flanks.”

  With that agreed, they set off, proceeding along the old highway that wound northward down from the crest of the pass. Both leaders knew that, at a reasonable speed, it would take them nine or ten days to reach Stonegate and the lightly guarded wagon train, two weeks. But they would arrive fit to fight.

  They made a brave sight. Each grupo of one hundred had its own banner snapping in the wind. Every lance had a small pennant, matching the primary color of the grupo’s banner. Some were red, some blue or yellow. None were white.

  Reuben was mounted on a large palomino, with golden flanks and flaxen mane and tail. He had two nearly identical remounts in the remuda that trotted behind, tended by a dozen young horse-holders, so he would always have a fresh steed. His armor was mail, and over that he wore a set of delicately engraved breast and back plates. His horn was bound in gold, as was the hilt of his falchion, a broadsword with a curved shape, double edged at the tip. Like every lancer, he carried his own lance, and his pennant was gold. Four burly lancers formed his personal bodyguard. Reuben looked over at them and smiled. It was good to ride with men that had battle-sense—men who could think for themselves in the heat of armed combat.

  Danny and his men were perhaps a mile in front of the main column and perhaps half that distance to their flanks. They set a faster pace, but their way was more difficult, so the pace of movement was in harmony. Stands of pine kept them concealed from view most of the time.

  †

  By the time they made camp, the plains were visible to the east, stretching to the horizon. Green mountains were to the west, low compared to the white-capped range farther away, but still much more than hills. A clear creek flowed to the east, which was why the site was chosen. Plenty of water was there for man and beast.

  It was a harmonious environment. Danny believed in harmony. When a war-party was well-organized and well-led, there was a sense of spiritual unity that could not be described. The Dine and Sonora Lancers had that oneness now.

  Their pack mules carried food for the men and grain for the horses, but had no room for comforts. Dried pork and hominy were soon transformed into kettles of posole, with fresh tortillas. Every man was preparing to curl up in his saddle blanket when Diné warriors led a stranger into the camp.

  The man was armed in Stonegate fashion on a large sorrel stallion. He raised his hand in greeting, and Reuben motioned him to dismount and approach the campfire. The sun had set, leaving a ruddy-orange glow, but they could see him well enough.

  “I seek Señor Reuben Ramos,” he said.

  “You have found him,” answered Reuben. “And who might you be?”

  “I am a messenger from Donald of Goldstone,” he replied. He handed over a leather-bound packet. “I was instructed to deliver this into your hands and wait for any reply that you might have.”

  Danny stood nearby, carefully inspecting the newcomer. He looked the part and seemed guileless and confident, yet something seemed wrong. He did not feel the harmony that should be there.

  “How did you find us?” asked Danny, as
Reuben broke the seal on the document and began to read.

  “I simply came south on the great highway,” came the answer. “I believe another messenger is heading south down the valley to the west called ‘San Luis.’ It’s the only other likely route.”

  Reuben’s bodyguards stood nearby, watching the stranger carefully. Reuben had laid his armor aside, and they knew he would be vulnerable to a sneak attack. Nevertheless, the stranger seemed peaceable enough. Reuben ordered food and drink and invited the stranger to sit by the fire. He complied, warming his hands over the coals.

  “Do you know what the message says?” asked Reuben, searching the stranger’s face.

  “I have not read the message, of course,” came the answer. “But I know it is a request that you divert to the west to attack the enemy supply lines.”

  “Yes, that is what is says, indeed,” mused Reuben. “And I find that strange. What do you think, Danny?”

  “I do not see how that would help,” said Danny, slowly. “The enemy has quit using the southern supply lines. Still, I hear no word in a handful of days.”

  “Did Donald personally give you this message?” asked Reuben.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Is he as big as they say? Taller by a span or more than the average man?”

  “He is, indeed. A most fearsome warrior!”

  “Have you seen his famous warhorse, the mighty, red giant of a steed?”

  “Of course. He rides no other!”