The Prophet Box-Set: Books 1-4

by David Beers

  The High Priest slowly turned around. He saw someone nervous standing in front of him, perhaps bordering on panic. A Disciple stood behind him, just inside the door.

  “What is your name?” the High Priest asked.

  “Wilyan Vissel, your Holiness.”

  “So you do know who I am,” the High Priest said.

  The young man clearly didn’t know how to respond.

  “I wasn’t sure you did, given what you’ve been doing.”

  Wilyan Vissel’s mouth dropped open; it looked like he was trying to talk, continuing to open and close his mouth, though no words came out.

  “There is no sense in lying. It will only waste time and that is something I don’t want to do right now. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully. Do you understand?”

  Wilyan didn’t move at all—even his mouth froze. The High Priest didn’t really need anything from the young man. The Disciple behind him would find out the truth if he lied here.

  “What did the messages that were sent back to you say?”

  “I … I …,” and then finally, “What messages?”

  The High Priest stared on silently, seconds turning into minutes. Wilyan Vissel looked like he might attempt fleeing, but he managed to remain still, though he had to shove his hands into his pockets.

  “I will give you one more chance to answer me, Wilyan. What did the messages say?”

  He swallowed and his eyes broke from the High Priest, looking to the window on his right. Perhaps he was thinking he should fling himself out of it; the High Priest wasn’t concerned, the Disciple behind him would make sure it didn’t happen.

  Wilyan looked back to the Priest. Tears were in his eyes now, brimming just behind his eyelids. “They asked me about the woman that’s here. They asked me about what we’re building.”

  “You told them the truth?”

  The young man nodded, a tear falling fat down his cheek. “As much as I knew.”

  “The man behind you,” the High Priest said, motioning with his head at the Disciple, “he’s going to ask you to tell him exactly what your messages sent. You’re going to tell him everything; do you understand?”

  Wilyan nodded.

  The High Priest turned back around. Wilyan Vissel made no other noises as he exited, because the Disciple ensured he couldn’t.

  The Disciple’s nanotech would relay to the High Priest what he wanted to know, and then Wilyan Vessel would meet an end commensurate with his crime. The High would leave that up to the Disciple.

  For the moment, he had other things he needed to understand.

  Come to me, he commanded.

  Minutes passed, but much less than before, and a Disciple entered his room. He looked the exact same as the last one to enter, but that would be the case for any Disciple. They looked the same. They acted the same. They were the same, interchangeable from one to the next, and all content in their service of Corinth.

  “People are coming here,” the High Priest said without turning around. He cared little for what the Disciple felt or thought. He knew they did have feelings, that they were a lot like humans—but the High Priest would never come to think of them as humans. “They’ll want to stop the work being conducted here. Whatever happens, this work cannot be stopped.”

  “I understand, my High Priest.”

  “You will need to make preparations.”

  “It will be done, my High Priest.”

  The High Priest remained quiet for a while. Eventually the Disciple took his cue and left the room. Slowly, the sun outside dropped and the moon took its place. The High Priest stood and walked outside of his room. He saw the blue lit machine standing just down the hall, two people working on it and Nicki Sesam hanging in the middle.

  Once seeing the Priest, the two stood to leave as they did each time he ventured outside.

  “No,” the High said. “You on the left, I’d like you to stay.”

  The person on the right looked over at the other for a second, then walked off without a word. The High Priest didn’t even look at them as they walked away. His eyes were only on Nicki Sesam.

  The High Priest walked down the hallway until he stood just outside the blue box. The worker stood inside it, a few feet from Nicki Sesam’s suspended figure.

  “How long has she been like this?” he asked.

  “A little less than 24 hours, your Holiness.”

  “You can see her brain activity, right?”

  The worker nodded. The High Priest saw nothing of the terror resting across her body like an item of clothing. His attention was fully focused on Nicki Sesam.

  “Please tell me what is happening to her.”

  Nicki Sesam had been lucid for a few hours, and the High Priest had spoken to her. Not at length, though he had spent a lot of time by her side. He’d sat just outside the blue box and stared at her. After a time, he had retired to his bedroom, and when he came again, she was gone.

  “Her brain is showing high activity in both the frontal cortex and the amygdala.”

  The High Priest nodded. “And that’s what we think is to happen when she’s in contact with the Black.”

  “Yes, Most Holy. That’s our assumption.”

  “Is she in contact with It now?”

  “There … There isn’t any way to tell yet. The machine isn’t operational.”

  He nodded. “But once it is operational, we’ll be able to see what she’s thinking, correct?”

  “Yes, Most Holy. That’s the assumption we’re building this under. We’re doing our best to replicate nanoparticles.”

  “Good, good,” the High Priest said absently.

  Time passed in the way that it did around the High Priest, no one moving, no one talking. The worker looked at her shoes, clearly unsure what to do, but not daring to move.

  “You can leave us,” the High Priest finally said. The worker scurried away and the High Priest stepped inside the box.

  The world thought the war had ended a week ago, as had the High Priest … originally. It wasn’t over yet, though, because now the True Faith was rebelling against Corinth’s will. There would be another war, and probably sooner rather than later. A war for this woman, and thus for control of the world.

  The High Priest stepped closer, so that Nicki Sesam hung directly in front of him.

  He needed to do Corinth’s bidding, and after, she was promised to him. That brain. That special, special brain. The High Priest would go to war, and he would defeat his reckless underlings; then he would be together with her forever, without interruption.

  The First Priest sat in the black box, waiting for the High Priest’s arrival. He wondered if this would be the last time he had to sit in here, cramped and unable to see a thing.

  His hands were sweating even though he took precautions before entering. He’d made sure—completely so—that no drones were floating above him, doing their best to interpret his thoughts. His mind was kept from the High Priest, and yet …

  The High had called the Disciples to him.

  That wasn’t a good sign. The Priest had thought about it for hours, and he came up with two possible reasons, favoring the first.

  Due to the High’s machinations, he was concerned about the Unformed and calling the Disciples for protection.

  And the second, which the First hoped wasn’t the case: the High Priest understood how the rest of the True Faith would view his actions, and the Disciples were indeed for protection—against Priests.

  The First couldn’t come out and ask … though to say nothing about them leaving the True Faith would be just as disastrous. The only positive thing the First Priest had going for him was the Council’s backing, and that did give him a serious advantage.

  And yet, sitting in this black box, he felt fear. The High Priest was no one to trifle with, nor underestimate, regardless how much power the First had on his side.

  Time ticked by, stretching out at least as long as any other time he
’d hailed the High. That wasn’t a good sign either. It could mean any number of things, but the First Priest did his best to keep his mind from chasing them all down.

  Eventually, hours and hours after first entering, the First Priest finally felt the High’s arrival.

  Green pixels filled the space in front of him, the High’s face prominent. Usually the First saw his whole body, and the High Priest was busy looking at something else, or simply staring into space.

  Not now.

  The High looked directly at him.

  “We give thanks,” the High said not dropping his eyes at all, but keeping them leveled at the First.

  “We give thanks.” The First did glance down, not daring to break custom.

  “How are you, my First Priest? I trust things are going well with the rebuilding of Corinth’s empire.”

  The First had thought long and hard about how this conversation would go. The result he wanted wouldn’t be easy to achieve: an invitation to the High Priest’s home. Yet, the First now understood that one way or another, he was going to it. The High could invite him, or he could simply show up, an army behind him. He preferred the invite, because he really wanted the girl. The army would make that much less likely.

  “I’m well, Most Holy, though in complete honesty, the First Council is growing somewhat concerned.”

  “Why?”

  The First Priest paused, mimicking how he would have acted if the matter wasn’t already settled. “The Disciples. You’ve called them all to you. We don’t understand why.”

  “Is that all?” the High asked.

  So, he knew. The First had wondered what type of games they would play here; would they act as if no message had been sent?

  “No, Most Holy,” the First said, making a snap decision to tell the truth—or at least part of it. “We received a message from one of the True Faith members working for you.”

  “You did?” the High Priest said, his face showing no emotion. “What did they say?”

  “That you were building something which might be … dangerous.”

  The High Priest didn’t so much as nod. He said nothing, apparently waiting on the First to speak again.

  “The Council has asked me to check-in with you. To make sure that everything is okay.”

  “Is this the type of check-in they’re meaning?”

  The First Priest shook his head. “No.”

  “I serve at Corinth’s desire,” the High said. He didn’t blink. Nothing besides his chubby lips and chin moved. “And Corinth’s desire is seen through multiple channels, one being the First Council. If it wishes to check-in by sending you here, then by all means, come, my First Priest.”

  Could it be that easy? The First didn’t think so. Nothing had ever been easy with this man, especially not since breaking a Proclamation.

  “I can be there in two days, Most Holy. I’d like to get this nonsense over with quickly, so that I can get back to Corinth’s work here.”

  “That sounds perfect,” the High Priest said.

  Silence fell across the black box and the First recognized that the High would not end it. He would sit there staring forever—until the Black returned and they all burned alive—if the First didn’t leave.

  “I will see you soon, my High Priest,” he said, his throat cracking at the end.

  The High said nothing, leaving the First alone with the memory of his cracking voice and fear growing in his stomach. It made no sense, for him to be afraid of this man, given the power he would bring with him. The High might actually think this just a check-in, a bit out of routine, but nothing besides one Priest inspecting another.

  The First would arrive with enough ships to kill everyone in that place five times over.

  He has Disciples, a voice from deep inside said. And anyone you bring with you? They will have nanotech in their bodies. And he has Disciples.

  The black box suddenly felt very cold and the First Priest left it quickly.

  There are things to see, the voice had told Nicki.

  Who are you? she had asked.

  The question doesn’t fit, and it’s unimportant. There are things for you to see, and time is short. Come.

  Nicki had gone, the world around her fading away. She thought she would end up back in that black space, but instead, she saw a room that looked a lot like the one she’d just left. When she’d been in the black space, there’d been no body accompanying her. It was simply her mind that occupied the area.

  Here, though, in this room, she saw herself. It reminded her of the motel, when she’d been forced to travel from Ministry to Ministry. She was in her body now, capable of moving.

  Nicki looked around the room, stunned.

  A brief and bright panic rose in her chest, almost screaming: RUN!

  The room was full of …

  Her kidnapper. It didn’t seem possible—and probably it wasn’t, this being some hallucination—but she saw what she saw.

  Nicki backed up slowly, hoping not to be seen, until her foot hit the wall behind her.

  I told you that it wasn’t over, and it isn’t. The Unformed is not finished.

  The what? Nicki asked, hardly focusing on the voice speaking to her. She could think of nothing else besides the hundreds of people walking around in front of her. All of them the same. Their faces. Their hair. Their eye color. Their very mannerisms. It was all the same.

  The Black. It’s not finished, the voice said as if nothing at all was happening inside the room. Another war is coming, and this time it’s going to focus on you.

  I don’t understand, Nicki said. Her hands tried to grip the wall behind her, the panic inside her growing. No one was looking at her, though. No one appeared to see her at all.

  These people, they’re gearing up for war. There are others, elsewhere, all of them readying themselves to come here and kill you.

  Nicki closed her eyes. Survive, she thought. Whatever this is, just keep surviving it.

  Who are you? she asked. How are you talking to me? Why are you talking to me?

  None of those questions matter. What matters is that you understand what is coming.

  And what am I supposed to do? Nicki asked.

  It’s still there, the voice said.

  What?

  No answer came, but Nicki didn’t need one. She felt that gray light inside her, somewhere deep and almost untouchable. But still there.

  No, she said. I’m not using it. That’s the Black. That’s one thing I won’t use.

  These people here, the voice said, talking about the clones walking to and fro, working at some task Nicki couldn’t begin to understand, they’re preparing to force you into a situation you won’t be able to handle—

  How do you know? Nicki interrupted. How do you know any of this?

  It isn’t important. None of these questions matter, the voice said, the last word resembling the blast Nicki had felt in that blackness—a raw strength behind it. The voice didn’t scream, but Nicki understood the meaning: stop asking questions and listen. You’re going to be thrust into a situation that few people on Earth can handle. Perhaps none. Especially if It doesn’t want you there. Everyone here, they’re all creating that situation right now.

  What will happen? Nicki asked, finally focusing some on what the voice was telling her.

  You’ll die, or get as close to death as possible without your body actually passing on. Your mind, your personality, none of it will exist after.

  What do I do? Nicki asked.

  Come, the voice said.

  The room faded away and Nicki found herself in the sky. She didn’t know where exactly, but she thought it was a great distance from the last place she’d been. As her body floated in the air, she thought, This must have been what he felt like. The weapon.

  Pay attention, the voice snapped.

  Nicki’s eyes focused on the world around her, seeing a giant ball in the distance.

  Is that…, she asked as her voice trailed off. She was searchi
ng for the word, the name of the building, but it seemed lost to her. She had learned it a long time ago, but now her mind couldn’t recall it.

  The Globe of One, the voice said. That’s it.

  The orb wasn’t simply huge; it was large in a way that Nicki hadn’t seen before. Smaller orbs circled around it, like planets orbiting a sun, but they were minuscule in comparison. Nicki understood in some back crevice of her mind that this was the One Path’s version of Vatican City. The beauty of it, though, was stunning, and she found herself barely able to think.

  It doesn’t matter what they built. Watch.

  Tiny doors opened in a circle around the top of the globe. Seconds passed with nothing else happening, and then Nicki watched as ships started flying lazily from the open doors. None shot out, but rather cruised forward, one after another.

  Ten, eleven, twelve … they kept coming from each of the open doors.

  How many are there? Nicki asked.

  Enough.

  And then Nicki watched as they flickered out of existence, as if they’d been only images projected onto the sky.

  Where did they go?

  They’re still there, the voice said. They’re like the ships that killed the Prophet. They can’t be seen, but they’re all still flying. Toward you.

  Why? Nicki asked.

  To kill you. Come.

  The sky disappeared and was replaced by the world that existed underground. Nicki had seen it before, when she watched the dark man fight that armada. She wasn’t at the same place, but rather another building that made the first one look practically nonexistent in comparison. Nicki stood on a platform at the very bottom of it. She twisted her neck to look up, seeing the structure stretch and stretch as if forever.

  Look, the voice said. Down.

  Nicki turned, and just beyond the platform she saw other ships flying away from the building. Nicki jogged to the edge of the platform and looked over the railing.

  How many? she wondered, and then thought … hundreds.

  All of them were flying from some unseen opening beneath Nicki, but the line of ships was tilting upward, heading toward the Earth’s surface.

  They’re coming for you too, the voice said. They won’t kill you immediately, but they will take you, and then experiment on you until you die.