by James Somers
Any further consideration of why Mordred would transport these giant men on his slaver vessel left his mind as the battle for his life ensued. Demons lunged at him from every direction. Ethan struck out with both swords. He countered assaults, parried swords, ducked a swinging mace, somersaulted over a demon, then struck the creature down.
Every time he managed to create an opportunity for escape, more demons swarmed in upon him. It did not appear that Ethan could win this fight. He now faced too many opponents in too confined a space. Ethan searched for a way of escape. He could pass through the physical walls, but not through the spiritual creatures hemming him in.
A thought kept bouncing around in his mind. Why are these giants sailing for Emmanuel? Ethan tried not to think about it—after all, he was fighting for his life. But the thought would not go away.
The giants backed as far away from the fight as they could. The demons blocked Ethan at every turn. He remembered the old woman from Tilley—the one controlled by a single demon. That woman had been nearly one hundred years old, yet she had fought with the strength of ten men. Even Gideon could hardly handle her in the fight. If Mordred built an army with these demon-possessed giants, then what normal army could hope to stand against him?
Ethan still did not know how many giants were even in the cargo hold. But if Mordred had more ships, bringing more giant men, then…the thought was terrible. Ethan had to destroy the giants. Bonifast was trying to sink this ship, but with the storm raging around them, it might not happen. And for all Ethan knew, Gideon may have convinced him to hold his special ammo until Ethan returned.
He was losing ground fast, barely defending himself at this point. He had nowhere to run. Ethan looked toward the walls of the cargo hold. The hull was blocked. Demons hovered above him, even standing upside down upon the ceiling of the cargo hold, all barring his retreat. There was no place for Ethan to go but—down!
Ethan immediately used both swords to hack through the floor beneath his feet—not because he couldn’t pass through already, but to allow water into the cargo hold. The brilliant blades cut through the sturdy wood like hot knives through butter. Ethan dropped down as the wood gave way. He sank down into the lower hull, which housed the spine of the ship. With his swords illuminating the dark confines of the space, Ethan ran across ballast stones toward the spine and began slicing through it.
Demons dropped into the enclosed space with him. When they spotted him and saw what he was doing to the ship, they immediately rushed after him. Ethan made his final cuts, then hacked through the last layer of the hull beneath his feet. The last thing Ethan saw was astonished demon faces.
Water erupted into the compartment, filling it quickly. Ethan let go of the physical completely, while the ship sped on, away from him, taking on water. He was in the Azure Sea now, but he was not wet, not drowning. He needed no air in this state.
Ethan rose toward the surface. As he came to stand upon the water itself, he saw the Maelstrom pass him, still in pursuit of the slaver—its cannons blazing after its prey.
Ethan ran upon the surface of the water toward the ship. He leaped upward, gracefully landing upon the deck of the Maelstrom. He immediately shifted back to the physical realm.
Ethan stumbled as gravity took hold of him again, air filled his lungs, and the storm winds beat upon him. His face slammed into the deck as the ship bucked upon a wave. He had the feeling of jumping from a speeding horse—when you hit the ground after that split second of weightlessness and freedom. Reality smashed into him like an enraged bull. He lay on the soaked wood of the deck feeling nothing but fatigue and pain.
Gideon appeared by his side. Ethan’s ears rang. His friend seemed far away, trying to speak to him. Rain fell. That was all he could manage to focus on—the feeling of the rain on his face again. Then everything went black as Gideon’s muffled voice and the sounds of the cannons faded to nothing.
THE CAPTAIN’S TABLE
Ethan heard a soothing voice in his head. All he discerned in the darkness was a thought that was not his own. “Well done my good and faithful servant.” It was so peaceful and warm. Ethan did not want to leave it. But consciousness intruded and he heard a male voice filtering into his ears. Light penetrated the soothing darkness. The blurry images became clearer, until Ethan saw Gideon’s face looking down at him.
The warrior-priest smiled at him then. “Glad to see you’ve come back to us, friend.”
That word, friend, seemed to hang in the air and resonate. Ethan was glad to see his friend, Gideon, as well. He noticed, as his eyes took in the room beyond Gideon’s face, they were not on the deck of the Maelstrom anymore. They were in a small, warm room and Ethan was lying in a very comfortable bed with quilts over his body. A lantern burned above him, hanging on a hook fastened to the low ceiling. “Where am I?” he asked.
“The captain’s quarters,” Gideon said. “You’re a regular hero, Ethan. And when you’ve regained strength, Captain Bonifast would like to meet with us.”
“Really?”
Gideon nodded. “He’s invited us to dinner this evening.”
Gideon placed a tray on the table next to the bed. “This should perk you up a bit.”
Ethan found a bowl of soup, some sort of chowder, and a small loaf of fresh bread. The steamy vapor rose from the bowl. Gideon got up to leave. “I’ll come back to check on you in a little while. Eat that food. I’ve seen the cook and you wouldn’t want to explain to him why you left the food sitting on the tray.”
Ethan got the point and smiled, sitting up in the bed. It was so comfortable. Ethan would never have expected a rugged ship’s captain to sleep in such a comfortable bed.
“Gideon?” he asked as the priest opened the cabin door to leave.
“Yes?”
“What happened to the slaver ship?”
“I trust you will enlighten us on that very subject at dinner. After all, you sank it yesterday.”
Gideon smiled, closing the door behind him as he left the room. Ethan sat there in the bed astonished. His memory began to return. The realm shift, the demon attacker, the slaver’s cargo hold, and the secret Mordred had been hiding inside of it. Yesterday? I’ve been unconscious since yesterday?
Ethan shook his head, which still hurt. He brought the tray of steaming food over onto his lap and devoured it eagerly. He wanted to get his strength back quickly if he was going to be dining with Captain Bonifast.
Later that evening, Brass came to the captain’s cabin with a set of nice clothes for Ethan. He was large enough for his age to wear adult clothing. He had a nice, white button up shirt with a cuffed collar and dark brown trousers with a brown leather belt. Brown leather boots and a finely tailored blue waistcoat finished the ensemble.
Brass waited outside while Ethan changed into the clothes. Then he escorted the boy to the captain’s dining room, down the hall. When he walked into the room, Gideon and Captain Bonifast were already having a friendly conversation at the table. “Ethan! Come in, lad, come in,” Bonifast said. “We were worried that you might not wake up for a while.”
“Just wore me out, I guess,” Ethan said. He watched Gideon’s facial expressions, trying to gauge how much he should reveal. Gideon gave him a knowing look and nod. Evidently, it was time for honesty with their new ally.
“Let’s sit down, gentlemen. We have much to discuss,” Bonifast said.
They each took a seat at the rectangular hardwood table. It held fresh bread and cheese next to a candelabra. Ethan noticed the candleholder fastened to the table with small nails in order to keep it from sliding around as the ship moved with the sea. “I’ve had Cook prepare roast pig for us this evening, men,” Bonifast said.
“That sounds wonderful,” Ethan said. The chowder earlier had revived his healthy appetite.
“Good, then perhaps we should ask our priest to request the Lord’s blessing upon our time of fellowship,” Bonifast said.
“Of course,” Gideon said, bowing his head. “O
ur Lord Shaddai, we thank you for passing over our sins and for the life and strength you give each of us. Please bless our time of food and fellowship and may our intertwined paths bring glory to your name. Amen.”
“By all means, gentlemen, have some food and drink. Cook will bring out the main course very soon.”
Ethan took a piece of the bread and reached for the metal pitcher on the table. It was filled with a mixture of fruit juices. When he poured the thick mixture into his glass and drank it, the blend tasted tangy and sweet.
“How do you like it?” Bonifast asked.
“Very good,” Ethan said.
“It is a unique blend. Cook prepares it for us on special occasions. I believe it contains juices from oranges, pineapples, strawberries, and banana to give it a rich flavor.”
Bonifast took the pitcher and poured some for Gideon and himself. He tore away a piece of bread and took a piece of cheese as well. “Now, questions,” he said. “I suppose you would like to know exactly what we are doing here on the Maelstrom.”
Both Gideon and Ethan nodded as they chewed their food.
“Well, as I said before, I am captain of the Maelstrom. I am also a former pirate.” That much Ethan had already guessed. He had a pirate’s manner about him—fearlessness bordering on madness.
“I have been serving under the auspices of King Stephen of Wayland for about five years now as he gathers his army in hopes of removing Mordred from power here in Nod. We are currently on our way to rendezvous with about twenty other ships, which comprise a portion of Stephen’s fleet. Some of these are mercenary ships.”
“King Stephen is using mercenaries?” Gideon asked.
“In this war they’ll either fight for Mordred, or us. We’d rather have them fighting for us. They may not necessarily be loyal to the cause, but they are loyal to gold. So, we take what we can get,” Bonifast said, biting off a piece of cheese.
There was logic in what the captain was saying, but Ethan had never heard any good things about mercenaries. They fought for the highest bidder without love for God, king, or country. They were not to be trusted.
“What happens when you rendezvous with this fleet?” Ethan asked.
“We will sail for Emmanuel and attack the city, coordinating with a ground force already on the move. We should commence the attack within two days time. As you may, or may not know, Mordred keeps a substantial compliment of ships from the old royal navy moored in the harbor at Emmanuel. It will be our job to destroy as many as possible.”
“Do you actually believe you can take the royal city?” Gideon asked. “Mordred almost certainly knows Stephen’s ground army is on the way, and he’ll be waiting for it.”
“We are aware of that fact, Gideon,” Bonifast said. “However, while it would be tremendous to actually capture the city, we are hoping to at least weaken the army Mordred is already putting together. Our sources indicate he is commissioning a great many people from outside of the Kingdom of Nod to fight for him.”
“The heathen tribes of the Outlands?” Gideon asked.
“None other. And they are more than willing to fight. Mordred deals in slaves to help pay for their services to him. Also, there are many men who are being brought under the influence of demons in order to add to Mordred’s army.”
“How much do you know about the demons?” Ethan asked.
“Most consider them to be myth, but I’m very familiar with who Mordred’s ways and his unseen allies,” Bonifast said. “This army is growing strong and threatens to outnumber the army King Stephen has raised to fight.”
“They’ll be outmatched as well,” Ethan said.
“What do you mean?” Bonifast asked.
“Those weren’t slaves aboard that ship,” Ethan said. He felt apprehension going into this part of the truth, but apparently, Gideon trusted the captain. “I found giant men inside the hold of that ship yesterday,”
“The Anakims?” Gideon asked.
“I suppose so,” Ethan said. “It was dark, so I can’t be sure how many there were.”
Bonifast looked at his plate for a moment, a piece of bread partially torn between his hands. When he looked back up, he had the most serious look Ethan had seen on his face, so far.
“That brings me to another question, lad, and I want a straight answer,” Bonifast said. “How did you get on that ship and send her to the bottom?”
Ethan looked at Gideon again. He nodded approvingly, so Ethan continued. “Somehow, I have the ability to pass from the physical world into the spiritual realm. I’m only just beginning to understand how it works, but yesterday I entered the spiritual realm and fought with demons that were aboard the slaver. There were hundreds of them inside of these Anakims held in the cargo hold. When I struck at one of the giants in the dark, some of the demons came out of it and attacked me.”
Ethan’s story astonished both Captain Bonifast and Gideon.
“The demons seemed to be trying to protect the Anakims from me,” he said. It felt awkward to suggest anyone would be afraid of a fourteen-year-old farm boy, but the facts still stood. “The demons hemmed me in and blocked my way of escape. When I realized these giants intended to fight for Mordred, I knew I had to destroy them somehow. So, I cut through the hull and let the water do the rest while I came back to the Maelstrom.”
“That’s when I saw you reappear on the deck?” Gideon said.
“Yes, but as soon as I came back to the physical world, I felt too weak to even stand,” Ethan explained.
Bonifast scratched the black whiskers on his chin. “Perhaps this going from one plane of existence to another requires more effort than you think,” he suggested. Ethan had been expecting the captain to laugh him to scorn and declare him a lunatic. But he appeared to take the truth in stride.
“You mean you actually believe me?” Ethan asked.
“I knew it wasn’t my gunnery crews that did it,” he said matter-of-factly. Bonifast leaned back in his chair with one arm draped over the back. “Besides, Ethan, I know there are many things which the Almighty does in this world that I can neither explain nor deny. Let’s just say I’ve learned enough in my time to know when the hand of Shaddai is moving.”
Ethan smiled. Captain Levi Bonifast, ex-pirate, was clearly a man of great faith. Someone knocked on the door. “Come in, Cook,” Bonifast said.
The ship’s cook entered the room with a wooden serving cart. On top of the cart sat a covered platter made of pure silver. The cook rolled it over to the head of the table, where the captain sat, and lifted the domed cover. Underneath, sat a roasted suckling pig. The flesh had been glazed with a rich sauce and smelled absolutely mouth watering.
When Bonifast, Gideon, and Ethan had been served, Cook left the room. The captain stuffed a hearty bite of roast pork into his mouth. He had to shut his eyes, savoring the sweet smoky flavor. “That Cook,” he mused, “I wouldn’t trade him for ten chests full of treasure.”
Ethan and Gideon laughed before tasting the delicate, sweet meat. Bonifast looked thoughtfully at Ethan as he chewed. “Ethan, I don’t want you to share anything about your gifts with the other members of my crew. They’re a superstitious lot, and I don’t want to distract them from their duties. We’ll be going into battle in two days and I need them to have their wits about them.”
“I understand, sir,” Ethan said.
Bonifast smiled and grabbed his glass of fruit drink, holding it aloft. “Well then, let’s toast to young Ethan’s conquest. May we enjoy many others like it!”
Ethan and Gideon lifted their glasses to join the toast. It felt good to enjoy a moment of levity, allowing the pressures of the situation to melt away. They all knew the war would return for them, in the morning.
EVIL REPORT
The demon, Jericho, sat hunched on his feet upon the very edge of the highest tower of the king’s palace in the city of Emmanuel. He perched like a gargoyle as still and cold as the white stone beneath his feet. His unblinking eyes, with their ring of yel
low iris surrounding a deep pool of black, watched the training maneuvers on the green fields hundreds of feet below.
Thousands of men toiled with swords, staffs, axes, and spears in preparation for the coming army of King Stephen of Wayland. Archers, by the hundreds, ringed the inside of the white granite walls on either side of the palace. They shot at rectangular, straw targets with pictures of men painted upon them—training to kill.
Jericho watched as demons under his command moved unseen among the ranks of soldiers. They were there to foment hatred in the hearts of Mordred’s men, to make them fiercer than they could have been alone. Everything proceeded according to plan—his plan.
The demon turned his gaze downward where Mordred also watched the soldiers from a balcony overlooking the courtyards. When Jericho watched the conqueror, he did not look upon him with love. As far as he was concerned, man deserved no more than his contempt. Even the Wraith Riders, created by demons, were viewed by these fallen angels as mere tools—useful, but still of the low race of men.
Mordred lived under the misguided assumption he was in control of the demons working with him. Jericho knew this well. He had been the very one who had misguided that assumption, supporting it with every bow and scrape of feigned obeisance to Lord Mordred.
A means to an end, he always told himself. Mordred and his kind were a means to the subordination of the human race and the ascension of the fallen to the heights of supremacy. As it should be, he mused.
There came a flicker of darkness. Jericho did not need to see it. The proximity of spiritual beings always brought about a tingling sensation in his body. The flicker grew as another demon approached very fast from the west, over the Azure Sea. He sped toward the palace on dark wings with soiled feathers reflecting their fallen nature.
The demon landed near Jericho and immediately knelt in his presence. Jericho did not remove his gaze from Mordred, neither did his body stir in the slightest. “My lord, Jericho, I bring news of Wayland’s army and from our ships at Sea.”
