The Prophet sat in seclusion from the world after the gathering, taking no visitors including his wife.
“Will you speak with me father? You’ve been in seclusion long enough,” Malak said, from the doorway. The Prophet continued to sip tea pretending as though he didn’t hear Malak.
“The gathering was successful father. Our recruits have swelled in numbers. Many have already begun their training,” Malak said as he took a seat next to him.
“The gathering was a failure. An utter failure,” the Prophet said hopelessly. Malak grunted.
“I don’t understand.”
“Begin those who have the spirit for it, on combat training,” The Prophet said, avoiding Malak’s statement.
“Combat training? May I ask why?”
“I fear that I have made a mistake. In just three days’ time, the sheeple have proclaimed themselves gods. They have begun to raid long standing covens and temples seeking power, money, anything that will feed their depraved spirits. Desecrating ancient grave sites for spiritual enlightenment, giving unholy sacrifices to egregors of their own making. Solon was right, although it pains me to admit it. I have created monsters as if there weren’t enough already. In my own discontent, I set out to unite the people of Earth with the Princes of Heaven prematurely. I have interpreted the visions of the Dactyls incorrectly. Upon my meditation I have come to understand that strife will always exist between the seeds of man and those of Heaven. We had been cursed with enmity since the beginning. God no longer speaks to the angelic powers because their war has become warped as they too have lost true sight. Setting them free would indeed be the end of our species. There would be nothing left to rebuild. The Black Knights were right to mistrust the angels,” The Prophet began to say.
“I understand, but don’t see this as a failure father. I will send the call for recruitment to the Mujāhidūn. I will speak with Hercules the blacksmith. Give him the diamonds from the vault for the blades to be made.”
“Also, organize for me a conference call with Rufus Sosius. We must align ourselves with Orders which will defend until their last. The Black Knights are the keepers of the Tree of Knowledge. We must support them, in the end. I wish to make amends with Magia Rex and his Order if he will have it,” The Prophet continued.
“Yes sir. I will. And are you still going to meet with Chris Hicks of Ordo Viscenti Regalus in the morning?”
“Yes. I will hear him out, although I trust him about as much as I trust a hungry hyena not to bite. This sheeple leader is seeking power and sees our order as an easy way into the fold of the Council. I remember his face, Malak. Standing on the front row at the Obelisk. He is one of the monsters I created and I will face it,” The Prophet said as he bid Malak good night.
Sitting alone, The Prophet could hear the flapping of wings. He stood, gripping hold of his prayer beads as the wind kicked up around his person. Before him landed a large eagle which began to take the shape of a man.
“Elder Red Cloud. I am honored,” The Prophet said bowing respectfully.
“Dear Prophet. I come to you in peace, but we the men of the Red Mountain bring to you a warning. You sir, are in grave danger. Grace has indeed been lifted, but only for a moment. You shall be tested, and it is one that you must pass lest you find yourself at the mercy of darkness. Death will knock on your door dear Prophet and you must answer. Once you have found yourself in the realm of the Ascended Masters, we shall guide you, as you must return to lead your people from the bondage of the mind and spirit. That is indeed your purpose, to lead, but to what end has yet to be determined. You have only acted as you must, but the coming days will blot out the light of the Red Dawn. The awakening will indeed bring those minds to join the Orders, but many will perish because they think as children. Do not take these things to heart, Prophet. Each man walks their own path, just as you are about to begin yours. Do not veer off your path, lest you be taken to the Necromanteion. Be well as you journey sir, for the Feathers of Red Dawn cover you,” Elder Red Cloud said as he took his eagle form and flew towards the moon.
The Prophet watched the elder fly until the length of his wings became as a dot upon the sky. There was a sadness by the likes he had never felt. He placed his hand upon his heart and wept. Baron Samedi watched The Prophet from a distance and as he stood upon the hillside looking down at Temple Eliyon, he decided to pay him a visit.
“Cimitiére, send a small horde of your zombii warriors to test the Prophet's might. I may have to take this one myself. But I just want to make sure,” Samedi ordered.
Cimitiére summoned his zombii horde and sent them towards Temple Eliyon. The shrieks of the zombii horde had the power to stop the hearts of those too weak to withstand the unholy vibration. They looked like the dead; rotting, hanging skin, covered by a thin hooded cape; each carrying a scythe.
The Prophet’s gaze turned towards the hillside as he could see the approaching horde descending down in a cloud of smoke and dust. He looked towards the door, but chose to fight. Pulling his diamond scimitar from his belt, he stood on the edge of the temple. The diamonds within began to glow as the swarm of the zombii started to enclose around the Prophet. He could no longer see the light of the moon as dark laughter was all about him.
“Death is near to your heart. You shall fall to the will of the Baron,” the zombii said collectively.
They lifted him off the ground; the stink of death seemed to pervade through the Prophet’s skin like ink spilled upon white cloth. He began to wave the scimitar around causing the swarm to gather into a large sphere.
The Prophet sliced the sphere in half causing the darkness to leak upon the temple ground. The zombii began attacking The Prophet with scythes. He was a master swordsman and met their scythes; chopping off their heads. They fell like disembodied piles of clothes falling upon the ground. Samedi watched closely, telling Cimitiére to call them back.
“This one will be mine,” he said, spitting out his cigar. The cold breeze of those who fled caused The Prophet to stand victorious. He fell to his knees as the touch of the zombii weakened him further. He sounded for the Mujāhidūn to come to his aid and they carried him into the temple.
“Why did you not call for us?” Malak shouted, as he summoned his mother.
“At some point, every man must fight their own battles son. This day I am victorious,” he said as he lay his head back to rest.
26
the praying husband
The Prophet was not the only one engaged in battle this night, as the Black Knights also found themselves in the middle of a mission with werewolves and sheeple. Bibi finished teaching her class and looked down the hall to Mila's suite. She didn’t see any lights on but intuition urged her to make sure Mila was alright.
The oddity of an Alchemist in the Palace was alarming enough. She turned the knob to the door after she made sure nothing stirred. Her room was dark, and the only light shining was a candle on her night stand. There was no indication that anything took place. Bibi turned on the light and saw that Mila was propped up in the bed like Sleeping Beauty. Her hair was perfectly spread across the pillow, and she wore a silk gown.
“Mila wake up,” Bibi said, sitting on the side of the bed. She shook her but Mila didn’t move. Bibi placed her head on her chest and could feel her breathe, hear her heart beat, but it appeared that no one was home. She started shaking Mila harder but she wouldn’t wake. “Oh no,” she said, as she grabbed her cold hands.
Bibi called Cesare telling him to come by the Blue Palace immediately. “I knew something was up with that guy, but I don’t know if I should mention him just yet,” Bibi said, as she curled up next to her friend.
Cesare's phone was in the car, away from their work. As he finished throwing his fit and blowing up the church, he just so happened to look in the direction of his car to see the light flashing. He flew down to his car and picked up the phone. Bibi was somewhat frantic and he hopped in his car without question or telling the other guys.
&
nbsp; “Where the fuck is he going?” Adonis asked, as they waited for Rufus to return to begin interrogations. Lance shrugged not caring for the drama that was Cesare.
As Bibi waited for Cesare's arrival, she could hear a conversation going on outside of Mila's suite. She crept up to the door and peeked her head out seeing Josie with another woman she didn’t quite recognize. All ears, Bibi could hear the two ladies talking about someone who had bought their way into the Round Table. She leaned in closer and could hear something about witch burnings. “Holy crap. It can’t be,” she said to herself as she tried to put two and two together. Just as the conversation was getting good, Cesare came running down the hall.
“Mila?” he said, slowing his pace and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“It’s so weird. It’s like she’s been zombified but not really. I've never seen that,” Bibi said. Cesare’s mind was a jumbled mess. He grabbed Mila's hands and began praying. “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hollowed be thy name. By Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. And give us this day --”
“You still pray? How is that going to help?” she asked confused.
“Leave me with my wife please.”
Bibi knew she had crossed the line and gave them their space. Cesare, who was an avid destroyer of religion, often found himself falling to old practices during times of need. He reached in his pocket and grabbed a rosary; placing it on her chest.
“Mila, sweetheart. I know you can hear me. I need you to follow my voice and come back to me. You've been gone long enough and I miss you,” he said as he lay his head next to hers.
He found himself falling into a deep trance; waking in a garden which smelled of sweet fruits. In his hand was a Bible and in the distance, he could hear Mila talking and digging.
“Mila. Baby it’s time to come home,” he said, holding out his hand. She turned to him, standing completely naked with a small shovel in her hand.
“But I'm not finished planting. The fruit is almost ripe. Would you like some?” she asked, holding out a large, ripe peach.
“We grew it together. Remember? And it smells so delicious,” she said, taking a deep whiff. Cesare grabbed her hand and bit into the fruit. It was the most succulent fruit he had ever tasted. Mila grabbed the peach and threw it into a hole in the ground.
“Mila what are you doing?”
“We have to hide our special fruit. Or the red man will eat it.”
“What red man?”
She pointed towards a black tree with no leaves. Above it hovered a gray cloud which sucked the light from that area.
“He thinks it’s his peach but it’s ours. Tell him he can’t have it,” Mila said whispering.
Cesare walked towards the tree with a suspicious look upon his face. Mila continued to dig as Cesare stared at the red man. He had no shape or form, but like that of a specter of red color.
“Who are you? Leave this place. This here belongs to me and my wife!” he commanded.
The red man jumped towards Cesare, knocking him out of the dream world. Cesare fell off the bed, hitting his head on
the floor. He sat up, seeing Mila was still unresponsive.
“Something's in there. I gotta get it out,” he said to himself as he heard a crash downstairs. He could hear the gasps and screams of the Blue Goddesses downstairs and in all his irritation knew he had to check. As he turned his head, there was a glimmer upon Mila's skin which he could only see by a certain reflection of light.
“Alchemy. It’s gotta be!” he said as he took a closer look. His mind was racing at a million miles an hour, but quickly shifted as he felt the presence of an Alchemist.
***
Moments before Cesare heard the crash, Solon stretched his arms to take in the soft air of the day’s first breeze on the other side of the world. His heart, still light and full of the love which he shared with Mila the night before. The door to his chamber opened, and there Cornelius entered with a tray of coffee and food.
“Good morning love,” he said smiling. Solon stared at him but embraced his kindness with sarcasm.
“Have you mixed nightshade in my coffee?” Solon asked, staring at him. Cornelius shoved him off and sat the tray down, kissing him and embracing him lovingly. Solon was suspicious as typically Cornelius didn’t speak to him for three days after he beat him.
“So I take it your mission to trap the Knights failed.”
“Rufus caught wind of the plan and attacked us. We lost one,” Cornelius said regrettably.
“I'll have to find another way then. Cesare must be disposed of,” Solon said staring off. Cornelius scoffed, rolling his eyes thinking of his last encounter with him.
“Tell me, why is it you stay?”
Cornelius laughed. “I love you. Have I not made that plain?”
Solon shrugged, taking the coffee and sniffed it. “Mmm. Dark roast.”
“Of course. What other way would you have it?”
Solon took a sip, and the heat of the coffee warmed his chilled body. “I have always loved dark roast. In fact, I have taken a liking to it,” Solon said grabbing Cornelius’s face as if he were going to kiss him.
“Chocolate is my favorite flavor. It is a delectable thing. The way it melts in your mouth with the heat of your breath. I have tasted such a thing, and it has given me life. Not one that you could ever give.”
Cornelius snatched his face away. “Who is he?! Dosos?!”
“She is a goddess. THE goddess.”
“The Grand Dakini? Since when have you been to the Blue Palace?”
Solon shrugged and leaned back on his pillow. “Don’t ask questions that are not your business.”
“But she is married to Cesare Borgia. He is insane.”
“For now. But she is mine and will be here with me soon enough,” Solon said glaring at him.
“Oh, I see. So the plan to trap the Knights was for Cesare. You would start a war over a woman?” Cornelius pressed on and Solon sat up.
“This is not up for debate Cornelius. I will have what I desire. And once she is at my side, I will no longer need your weakness,” Solon said.
Cornelius poured the hot coffee on Solon’s bare torso. Solon began to laugh as it burned but grabbed his hair and punched him in the face. “You are slow at learning. I have told you on countless occasions, do not put your hands on me!” Solon shouted throwing him on the floor. Cornelius curled up and tied his robe and walked out. Solon grabbed his breakfast and began eating.
“Be useful and take Janna shopping. I don’t want to see either of you today.”
Cornelius walked out and closed the door. On the other side he began to throw a fit by the likes of a child. “Asshole! But soon, your reckoning will come,” he said walking towards his chamber.
Janna sat up in the bed and saw the blood dripping from his nose. “He hit you again?! Why do you care for him? Did you forget what happened just last night? Do you not realize your own power?” she asked him as he lay on the bed. She took a wet cloth and cleaned his nose as he stared into space.
“I need you to do me a favor,” he said, turning his gaze her way.
“Anything.”
“Go to the Blue Palace. There is a woman I need disposed of.”
Janna looked at him strangely. “I cannot kill a Blue Goddess,” she shouted and he quickly covered her mouth as she was speaking loudly.
“No, you cannot. Not without risking war. But find another way love,” he said kissing her.
“Why do we stay? We should go away. My uncle has many hidden places.”
He continued to kiss her, ignoring her words as the need for love was quickly overtaking him. Grief stricken and sullen, her warmth was addictive.
“Sometimes we must struggle in order to find our true purpose,” Cornelius said stuffing his tongue down her throat. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close. As their bodies connected, Janna looked into his eyes; wanting him and he was the same.
“You’re beauti
ful Cornelius. Why can’t you see that?” she asked, but he met her question with a kiss.
Janna rolled on top of him and slid onto his hard member; taking it all in. He moaned as he pulled her down on top of him. Her long, thick red hair fell upon her chest as she rode him, and he grabbed a pink nipple with his tongue.
The sounds of sex alarmed Solon who was trying to finish his breakfast in the quiet. He stormed down the hall and flung the door open to see Janna grinding her hips on top of Cornelius. Solon stared as if he waited for an invite, but they paid him no mind. The blatant disregard for his presence was one which angered him, and he took it upon himself to show that anger.
Solon turned the bed into a pile of quicksand and they began to sink. Cornelius grabbed Janna and continued to thrust into her as he turned the quicksand into a pile of feathers. Solon disliked the challenge and turned the feathers into millions of bugs. Janna began to scream and as she tried to release herself from Cornelius’s grip.
He kept her close and turned the bugs into thousands of chocolates. He took one and put it in her mouth; kissing her and rolling it around in her mouth with his tongue.
“How dare you challenge me?” Solon said, as his aversion for Cornelius ever growing.
“Solon, would you like some chocolates? Take your pick, there are many about us,” he said welcoming Solon to join.
As Solon began to throw another attack, Madam Triga met him in the hall.
“Great Solon! Good morning sir! I hope you enjoyed the breakfast, yes?” she asked looking at him excitedly.
He turned to her, closing the door on Cornelius and Janna; returning to his calm, silent demeanor.
“Indeed I did. Thank you Madam,” he said, kissing her on the hand. Madam Triga shuffled down the hall towards the Cavern just as three Rubedos came up the stairs, including Messalla.
“Master. We need to have a word,” Dosos said. Dosos always had an intense look on his face. His brown skin was smooth as peanut butter and his hair was cut low and clean. His slanted eyes often gave mystery to his true feelings as he rarely voiced them, but this day his concern was clear upon his face. Solon motioned for them to follow him to one of his sitting rooms. Solon sat with his legs crossed as the three men sat around him.
Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1) Page 32
