Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

A hand fell on my shoulder, applying a comforting squeeze. I turned to see Van Parson, his eyes downcast, his face contorted into a grimace. “I really did try to save the poor man, but his system had already been through so much trauma. In the end, it was too much.”

  I couldn’t bear either the man’s words or his consoling. I swiveled and landed a fist square in the businessman’s middle. It doubled him, so his ear was in line with my mouth. As his men sprang to his aid, I whispered, “You dare mock this? Say anything else about my friends, and you won’t need a curse put upon you. I. Will. Ruin you.”

  Talmage and Bishop grabbed an arm apiece to steady the man, but a brusque dusting by Van Parson’s armored hand, dismissed their efforts. “Get these interlopers off my island. I’ve moved up their departure.”

  “I refuse to leave my father,” Mao said as she and Julinn joined us.

  “Your father is a zombie under my control,” Van Parson said, all of his mock sincerity gone. “If you are not off this island with the rest, I will activate the Asian’s self-destruct device.” Gritting his teeth, he warned, “See if I’m bluffing.”

  I placed myself between them and leaned into Van Parson’s face. “You will not harm him. We’ll go,” I said, staring him down, “but we’re taking Mason and Caduceus with us. You so much as move to stop us, and I’ll arm your self-destruct device. See if I’m bluffing.”

  7

  Van Parson’s goons left us with a reminder that we now had eight minutes, and counting. What would happen if we breached his mandate, I didn’t want to find out. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t worried; I was simply beyond the point of caring. It just didn’t matter anymore. My adrenaline was waning. It had been an extremely long thirty-six hours, and I was ready to have it all behind me. Stephen asked his men to secure Mason on a stretcher for transport, while he and I commiserated together on the grass. They were to do the same for Caduceus. Mao and her shadow refused to join us, and had, instead, wandered off on their own.

  Toward the end, one of the men assigned to Ducie – something Byers, his name was – jogged toward us. “Sir – sirs – the girl asked me to fetch you right away.”

  “What is it,” Marks asked. “Is she all right?”

  “Is something wrong with Mao,” I echoed.

  “No sir, she’s fine. But you really need to see this for yourself.” His look was one of sheer amazement.

  “Caduceus,” Stephen and I wondered simultaneously.

  Byers nodded. “There’s someone else.” His look of astonishment shone brighter, he performed an abrupt about-face, and sprinted away. Not once did he check to make sure we were with him.

  Pulling up to our destination, I saw Mao and Julinn standing vigil at Caduceus’ side. My mentor remained where I had left him prior to my strike on Aesculapus. It took a moment for my mind to take in the rest of the details, though. Then, I saw him, the ‘someone else’ Byers had mentioned. Seth had survived the demons’ onslaught as he had assured us he would; and here he was, cradling his fallen brother in his child’s arms. But there was something different about those arms, about the boy. I knew what it was, but I was having trouble processing it all.

  Until he looked up at me.

  “Kade Truth,” he said, a grin pulling at his lips. “Am I glad to see you.” And the weight of it all threatened to crush me. This was no child, kneeling before me. The boy looked to be in his early teens. He’s aging. Just like I saw in Aesculapus’ library of the mind. He could no longer wear his boy’s clothing, but rather dawned an old brown monk’s robe. Presently, it was much too big, but I had a fear it wouldn’t be for much longer.

  “Seth? You’re …” I couldn’t finish.

  “Yes, I am,” he intuited. “And it’s going to progress at a quickening pace. But I had to come.”

  “How did you even know he was down,” Mao asked.

  He shook his head. “But I didn’t know about Caduceus, Mao F’Yang. It was my other brother. Aesculapus summoned me. Telepathy. He sent that I should come revive him. Before I got to him, I found Caduceus. I knew who had done this terrible thing.” Tears pooled in the dimples of his eyes. His body did a peculiar thing, then. It blurred, I guess. When it ceased, he had changed. I stared at him, making no attempt to cover my surprise. I surmised he had aged as much as five years in the span of seconds.

  “What’d I tell you, Stephen,” Byers said, dropping the formalities. Marks nodded.

  “Sorry,” he shrugged, “I know it’s disconcerting.”

  “Forget it,” Stephen said. “That’s gotta hurt like a sonuva bitch.”

  “Not bad; not yet. As I continue to age, it’ll get a lot worse. That’s why I’ve got to do this and do it now.”

  “What’re you,” I began, but then Seth was in motion, and I knew. I hoped I knew at least.

  Seth moved Caduceus into a sitting position and scooted in close. Then, he embraced him in a fierce bear hug. Seeing the way his head lolled was almost more than I could take. I tried to have faith Seth knew what he was doing, but I was worried this was all an exercise in denial. Still, he continued to embrace my departed friend, and still, there was no visible sign anything was happening.

  Slowly, a patina of light spun around them. It was barely noticeable at first. Before our eyes, it grew in intensity, building to an astonishing flash so brilliant we had to shield our eyes rather than risk blindness. A heartbeat later, the light abated, and I was willing to chance a cautious glance toward the two brothers. My emotions were at war over the scene playing out before me.

  One look at Seth and I was devastated. Except for the eyes, the boy-that-was-now-a-man was unrecognizable. The last time I had looked upon him, he had nearly caught up to me in age. Whatever chrysalis had occurred behind the veil of light had caused Seth to hurtle right on past me without even slowing. By my guess, I would have said he was just shy of retirement.

  When I scanned from Seth to my mentor, however, anything I felt about Seth’s geriatrics took a backseat, and I felt my soul soar higher than my wings could ever carry me. Caduceus was awake. Praise God, he was alive!

  I began to cry. Scanning the handful of spectators, I saw I wasn’t the only one. To the contrary, we all were. Even Marks and Byers were bawling, and they hadn’t even known the guy like Seth, Mao, or I.

  Seth doubled over and kissed Caduceus’ wrinkled brow. To which, Caduceus asked, “The hell’s the deal with all the mourning going on? We at a bloody wake or what?”

  “You have no idea, big guy,” I chuckled. Mao rushed to join us, and together with Seth, we dog-piled him.

  Stephen got the idea that maybe Seth could do the same for Mason as he had for Caduceus. Seth sadly shook his head. “I’m sorry friend of Kade, but the one you speak of is beyond my help. Currently, I don’t think I could heal a wart. Caduceus ‘bout did me in.” To emphasize his fealty, Seth began to convulse and blur again. The fit lasted for just a second, but its effect was staggering. He now had the fragile appearance of a man of a hundred. Which wouldn’t seem possible with him only being around eighty, if not for the supernatural force he’s exerting. The robe he wore had gone from being too large for him to fitting him properly to once again hanging from his gaunt figure.

  “Excuse me,” he said in a congested voice, “but I must say goodbye to my other brother.” He patted Caduceus on the forearm and shambled the distance from Caduceus to Aesculapus. As he departed, I couldn’t help but pick up on his labored breathing.

  Moments later, the whoop-whoop-whoop of the National Guard’s air transports filled the sky. Van Parson and his men reemerged to inquire why we hadn’t yet vacated the island. He was more than a little startled to find Caduceus back among the living. “Healer,” he said, “You’re looking better.”

  “Healer no more, but healed,” Caduceus responded.

  “So I see,” Van Parson smirked. “Now, remove yourselves from my sight.”

  Not wishing to get the whole thing kicked back up, especially with enlisted men preparing to get i
nvolved, I diplomatically gathered the other unwelcome and we made our way to the Liberty Island docks, to where Mason’s still form awaited us. On my way past Van Parson, he took a quick step forward, momentarily blocking my path. Now what does he want? He was only there for a second, but before he stepped back, he mouthed the words, “I’m not done with you.”

  “No,” I corrected him, “I’m not done with you.” Turning my back to the corporate giant, I hurried to catch up with the others.

  EPILOGUE

  1

  Hearing his brother’s footfalls, Aesculapus shoved onto his side. Literally, the task took the last of his reserve, but after a moment with Lazarus, it would all be academic. As his savior stepped into view, Aesculapus saw that which his ears had already purported for truth, namely, his brother had aged dramatically. “My dear, beloved brother. You have risked your life to give me back mine? I am honored to have such a selfless –.”

  “Please, stop,” Lazarus interrupted. “Open your eyes and see I am beyond helping myself, let alone anyone else. I have sacrificed this abomination you have given me and called my life these endless decades, to save someone far more deserving.”

  Realization clouded Aesculapus’ face, “Caduceus,” he spat. “You traitorous wretches all stick together.”

  The ancient boy grinned dryly, exposing a mouth of failing teeth and cracked gums. Not a trace of humor touched this grin, for it wasn’t born of mirth, but a bitter realization he had been given an extended warranty on life, only to find he had never gotten the chance to live it. He began to blur and to shake apart. His fingers were the first to go, followed by his ears, the tip of his nose, and so forth. Had he still possessed his vision, he would’ve marveled at the sight of his own body blowing away, petrified detritus in the wind. “I love you,” he said, as his lips began to crumble down the front of his robe. Before his tongue could join them, he formed one final word and pushed it through the gaping maw that had replaced his mouth: “Brudder.” And then he was finished – not just his words, but also the man. His robe slid down to rest atop a chalky heap. Lazarus was gone.

  Seth was gone.

  Alone, and staring down his own end, Aesculapus, brother to none, began to wail.

  2

  “Do you think Seth’ll be okay,” Mao asked as the ferry pulled into port at the mainland. It was the only thing she had said since Caduceus’ resurrection and her forced abandonment of her father.

  “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him,” Caduceus said, cryptically. “He is finally at peace.”

  3

  Over the half-hour he’d lain in the sun, he had alternated between playing possum when bands of guardsmen would move past and trying fruitlessly to reach Lazarus’ remains. Any final hope he may have of beating the reaper lay in the magic the Twenty-Six had bestowed upon his brother. In his deteriorated state, however, there was no reaching to be done. His powers had fled him. Even wiggling his fingers took everything he had, but if he must die this day, he would die wiggling those fingers.

  He had found it easy to play dead; after all he was standing at death’s threshold, tapping to be let in. So far, no one had bothered to check for a pulse, and that was well. It was a windy day, and if Aesculapus could hold out, perhaps the air elementals would look favorably on him and blow to him his goal.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t the winds that reunited the brothers, but the guards. Aesculapus heard their footfalls for the third time since their arrival. Each other time, they had more pressing missions to attend. This time was different. Their steps did not veer away, but came toward where he lay. Still, he feigned death and tried to think of a means of escape.

  “Over here,” a male guardsman said. “It has to be him.”

  His female partner knelt for closer inspection. “He said he’d be wearing a black robe. So, gotta be.”

  “Alright, then. Help me load him onto the stretcher.”

  The two scooped him up and awkwardly hoisted him onto the carrier. The first guard said, “Crap, he’s emaciated. He must’ve been fasting before he came here. What type of a priest or monk is he?”

  “A dead type, I don’t know. Hey, grab that other robe down there and sling it on here. We’ll carry it back, too.”

  “Why’d he need a second robe,” he said, hauling it off the ground. As he did so, some of the debris it housed scattered about unceremoniously. “Had he been living here or something?” With a shrug, he placed the robe atop their corpse and started toward the main guard tower.

  Aesculapus was delighted. This had worked perfectly. Though the amount of Lazarus’ remains, which had escaped was great, that which now rested atop him should prove to be enough. He began to will his brother’s life force into his own. Ordinarily, this resulted in the leeching and subsequent grafting of Lazarus’ energies onto his own aged aura. So far, nothing was happening. Nevertheless, he vowed not to give up until his final breath.

  Then, the female guard did the unspeakable. She stopped pushing and called out to her partner at the stretcher’s head. “Robby, stop.”

  “What is it? C’mon, I’m ready to get back.”

  “How’d I miss all that dirt? It’s covering him. The dead don’t deserve that, especially a holy man.” She picked up the robe and began to flip it in the air, shaking all of Aesculapus’ hopes into the ether. Then, she bent to brush what had spilled onto the Dark Monk.

  It was all he could take, and he called out in negation, startling the two guards. “You have ended me. May the curse of Cain consume you both.” And the guards did suddenly find themselves consumed – with fire. Their screams – horrifying to anyone else – were manna to Aesculapus’ dark and wretched soul, although he worried the end was nigh if they were already paying for their crimes against the lineage of Cain.

  Their screams cut out, and they fell into a smoldering pile at the gurney’s side. Aesculapus closed his eyes and thought of all he’d lost in his hellish life. He felt his mind slipping and embraced it. He hated to null his vow and give in to death, but he could see no other out.

  His chilling bones began to heat, then, and it was comforting. He wondered if this was natural at this point, if perhaps it was a sign of his body’s systems shutting down. Then, the heat moved to his eyes, accompanied by a fierce light that permeated through his eyelids and pierced his brain. The sensation wasn’t one of dying, but an external one. Instantly, he knew what it was. Aesculapus screamed and slammed his snakes’ eyes open, torturing through the pain. Towering before him was a familiar pillar of flame, one that had once again found him and would – as with before – serve as both his redemption and damnation.

  “The Twenty-Six,” he croaked.

  “You are dying, without upholding your end of the bargain,” boomed the wretched chorus. “That is not acceptable. You will not die today.”

  “I have done everything you’ve asked, many times over. And my brother is gone.”

  A face formed, directly in his line of sight. “Dead. We witnessed his act. It was a selfless act, and we were unable to recapture his soul. This time, it has ascended much higher, out of our grasp. But your soul, Aesculapus, hangs between our proverbial fingers. You will continue to serve us. You will help us to get what we desire.”

  “What is it you wish from me,” Aesculapus pleaded.

  “For two thousand years, we have been without a host. We have all but forgotten the feel of human flesh and all it has to offer. Since the day the Son of God cast us into swine, we have traveled the world in search of another who possesses such power.” A second fiery face took up the tale. “We had temporarily taken over the body of a commoner, in hopes he would get us close enough to the proclaimed Messiah. We were about to strike when Jesus, at once, spotted us and blocked our plans.” A final face appeared and instructed Aesculapus, saying, “You will serve as our interim host, but unlike with the commoner, your abilities can help us secure the one we seek.”

  “I will not lend my body over to anyone or anything,
” Aesculapus protested.

  “Be not rude, sorcerer, for we are doing this to repay a huge debt we owe you.” Aesculapus was hesitant but curious. “Had you not brought the one we seek to our attention, we would have continued searching, blindly. This one has not the same feel, but is similar. He will do nicely.” The faces disappeared, and an image began to take form, at the center of the column, of a winged man with a sword of flame. “We will possess you, and, with your aid, we will inhabit The Angel of Truth for all eternity.”

  When Aesculapus opened his mouth in protest, the entirety of the column seized the moment to move into its new dwelling. Winding about itself, it funneled deep into the Dark Monk’s impotent, shrieking mouth, conquering his will, and banishing his consciousness, making room for his body’s new tenets. “We are no longer Aesculapus,” he proclaimed. “We are Legion.”

  4

  Two weeks had past since the battle at the statue, and we still hadn’t fully recovered. Any mention of what happened there had made it free of the presses. Instead of reporting on the flying hybrids or spawn of hell, the news was busy singing the praises of Richard Van Parson and VPI for the spectacular cleanup job there. Their demolitions teams had been working steadily to remove the statue’s remains. There had even been a humorous misunderstanding between VPI and the National Guard who were called in under the false report of further terrorist attacks on the statue. The article ended with President Perry’s promise that the rebuilding effort would commence in the coming weeks. The new statue was to be even larger than the original, to serve as a potent reminder Americans thrive in the face of tragedy and come back even stronger than before. I was sickened with it all. I hurled the paper I’d been reading into the wastebasket by the sink.

  My mother had been gracious enough to open her home, indefinitely, to my displaced friends. Currently, Caduceus and I were sitting at the dining table, waiting for mother to finish lunch. Seeing Caduceus’ old tricks about one kitchen/one cook thrown back at the big man was enough to lighten my mood substantially. “Mm, it sure smells good,” I taunted, “I wonder what it is today.”