“Cup your hands close to your chest…close your eyes…empty your mind.” Banedread waited, for he knew he was on the verge of leading a mass conversion to Intheism. Looking into the camera, his piercing eyes and alluring charm seduced even those viewing from their homes. “There lies within you a pool of potential greatness, it is the Pool of Passion, the source of your desires and dreams. It is that Pool that you will call forth in this moment.” His voice changed, as if he was possessed by a power greater than himself, and he was! “Repeat after me,” he hissed, “Compelling waters…”
The people chanted, “Compelling waters…”
“Surface and reveal.”
The chanting continued, “Surface and reveal…”
“The seat of passions.”
“The seat of passions.”
Banedread’s face took on a snake-like shape, his eyes reptilian, his tongue forked, “in all…”
Unexpectedly, a face appeared and a voice boomed forth out of the giant screens, which were attached to all the sides of the Ziggurat for public viewing, “Stop this madness!”
Banedread was abruptly awakened from his trance. Satrina and Lucius looked at each other, wondering who crashed their devious celebration.
It was Nate, and he quickly took to the offensive. “He is lying to all of you! Banedread is a servant of the dark forces of the Netherlife! Do not do what he is ordering you to do! He seeks to possess your souls!”
Chaos broke out, as some in the crowd yelled at Banedread, questioning his motives. Still others shook their fists at the trio standing high atop the Ziggurat.
“Sing the Song! You of the Fellowship, sing the Song!”
One by one, those touched by the invisible presence of Life Weaver lifted their voices, filling the bedlam with the sweet melodies of the Image Maker. Even atop of the Ziggurat, some of the Clerica tore their masks from their faces and joined in the Song.
Banedread looked to Lucius, and sarcastically barked, “What are we to do now, father?”
“Satrina! It is time. Open up the portal!”
Wasting not a moment, Satrina invoked her powers, as eddies of energy pooled together, breaking into the other realm, the Silver Sea.
Lucius stood before the portal and commanded, “Xcelenes, come forth!” Instantly, a horde of Xcelenes flew forth out of the portal filling the air around the Ziggurat. Lucius snarled, “Go and herd the human sheep, subdue them now!”
The people panicked at the sight of winged eagle-like creatures darting over their heads prodding the crowd with long pikes. The pikes emitted electrical charges from their orb-like ends, inciting a fearful submission in the people of Noab.
A large number of the Fellowship managed to escape into the city alleyways and some hid in local businesses.
Banedread, no longer constrained to stay in disguise, ordered, “Rulk, you and your brothers bring those of the Clerica who dared to sing the Song!”
Rulk knew which of the Clerica had torn their masks from their faces, and his fellow Abbandon grabbed those men and women and forced them on their knees before Banedread. “I will deal with you rebels shortly!” he seethed.
He joined Primus and Satrina overseeing the Xcelenes who finally corralled the crowd into compliance.
“Banedread,” Primus counseled, “It is time to skip step one in their evolutionary journey, don’t you think?”
“Why certainly father!”
Satrina, who held the portal open, now widened the entryway and commanded, “Xcelenes, bring forth the Nether Serpent!”
Out of the gaping energy hole slithered a huge snake, whose body stretched over the edge of the Ziggeraut. It stopped and raised its head up high so as to see and to be seen by all below.
Banedread, the cameras on him, addressed the shocked and frightened crowd, “Do not be afraid, my people. Behold, the next step in your evolutionary journey, the Nether Serpent!” Rubbing its neck, Banedread ordered it, “Release now your serpentine minions!”
The snake opened its mouth and from its bowels hurled thousands of small, winged serpents out into the air and onto the people below. The winged serpents flew upon their victims, attaching themselves to every hapless soul and digging their fangs deep, pierced all clothing, injecting the Netherlife into the populace. The creatures spread out into the city of millions breaking into homes and apartments, injecting adults and children alike. There were some whom the snakes came upon and abruptly avoided, as if some unseen force protected them. And that unseen force was the presence of the Life Weaver within them.
Down at The Song Shop, Nate and his friends watched the whole spectacle unfold in horror!
“Jonas! What has happened? Why did the Image Maker allow this to happen?”
“My friend, I do not know. But, what I do know is this, never underestimate His wisdom. Not all is what it seems. Our is to accomplish what is before us and await His direction.”
Just then, splat after splat could be heard on the windows of The Song Shop. The Nether Snakes had arrived and were on the attack!
Jonas calmly directed his friends, “Do not fear, these creatures cannot harm you. But, it is time for us to leave The Song Shop for good.”
Jonas led them to the door, opened it, and the fiendish snakes flew in by the hundreds. They avoided the Fellowship, who made their way out of the shop locking the door behind them. The serpents clung to the Frame, covering it as if it were helpless prey. But, it was not, for one by one they all fell limp to the floor, yelping in torturous pain, before igniting and being consumed by an emerald green flame.
“The cover of night now is to our advantage my friends,” Jonas explained, “we will evade the Xcelenes and go into hiding until we hear from Abriel.” And into a van they all went, and off into the night they sped, making there way to Historus’ home on the outskirts of Noab.
◆◆◆
Back at the Ziggurat, a purplish haze settled on the haunting scene as the people of Noab, now forced subjects of Banedread, stood in silence, the Netherlife filling their souls. “Well done Xcelenes! Now, my people, there are those among you that are of that Fellowship, grab them and place them before me!” Banedread commanded.
Those of the Fellowship shone in the midst of the dark mist of the Netherlife, they were easily identified and grouped together surrounded by a fearsome mob.
“First I will demonstrate my intolerance for betrayal!” Rulk and his comrades dragged the Clerics, who tore their masks from their faces and sang the Song before Banedread.
“Cast them to the ground below that they may never sully my presence again.”
The Clerics were shoved off the Ziggurat, plunging to their deaths on the pavement below. Their misshapen bodies lie still in pools of blood before their brethren.
“Now I will demonstrate my benevolence to the rest of you. Deny the Image Maker and I will grant you clemency and a place in Noab.”
One by one, men, women and children quietly at first, sang the Song.
“What? What are they singing Rulk?” Banedread spouted.
“They are sing the Song, Banedread, what shall you do now?” Primus jeered.
“Kill them! Kill them!” Banedread, in delirious chants shouted to his cult standing below. Though the Song grew louder reaching his aching ears, their voices fell silent as they met their death at the hands of the fevered throng.
“Bravo, Banedread! Your father and I could not be more proud of you!” Satrina concurred.
Primus dismissed the crowd and ordered the Xcelenes to systematically and forcibly vaccinate every citizen in Noab with the Nether Snakes, accomplishing what he so longed for since he birthed the Rebellion in the Land of Ever Loving and Being Loved.
With their mission complete, and their presence no longer needed, the Xcelenes hastily returned to the Silver Sea, for preparations for war had begun.
All of Noab was taken under the spell of Banedread, except for a tiny remnant held up in what seemed to be a small house on the outskirts of the city, the
home of Historus.
Chapter 11
One year had passed since the rise of Banedread. Primus and Satrina, confident that Noab would now be the center of earth’s new government, colluded with Maxim in strategizing the invasion of Aeton. Once all was prepared, they left battle preparations to the Xcelene leader and Balik.
The time had come.
The city of Aeton was now battle ready. Her defenders had strengthened her ramparts, her watchers stationed and alert, and her citizenry mobilized for the battle looming upon them.
Natriel, at the request of the Elders, now prepared himself to speak to his fellow Destiners outside in the Pavilion of Memory. It was here, that a throng had gathered, standing on sacred sky-blue tile pavers, in memory of eons of Destiner souls who had gone before them, that Natriel chose address the tribes.
From a balcony overlooking the vast terrace, Natriel, with Yenna by his side, lifting his arms outward, summoned all to a holy silence. In that moment, it seemed like an ancient river of memory flowed in and through all who had gathered, connecting them to their primeval ancestors, drawing strength from their testimony. Only a rustling through tupelo trees, their leaves instruments of a slight breeze, hushed in quiet song.
“My fellow Destiners, before us an impending storm gathers, its scathing winds to assault our shores. And who shall stand against such malevolent darkness? Who shall brandish liberties sword against such a foe?” Having the attention of every ear and beckoning every heart, Natriel proclaimed, “Those whose courage stands firm in the love of the Image Maker! We will clothe ourselves with resolve! Our wings will take to flight on the winds of freedom! Our swords will find their mark with the tenaciousness of justice!”
Taking Yenna to his side and both unsheathing their emerald swords, raised them in the air, cried out, “We are one! We are one! We are one!”
The chanting cascaded like an avalanche into the air, filling the atmosphere, and spilling out onto the brilliance of the sea. The mantra continued into the evening, as torches were lit, faces reflected the glory of those souls who chose to exercise the freedom of will the Image Maker had bestowed upon them…to choose life!
Unbeknownst to them, in the cover of the night, a small boat, undetected by the Destiners, had quietly run aground upon a beach not far from Aeton, with a human passenger aboard. Stepping off the dingy, he detected the city lights and made his way to its gates.
He did not make it very far, when a patrol of Destiners happened upon him, immediately stopping him for questioning. Thoriel, leader of the patrol sat him down, vexed with this visitor to his shores asked, “What is a human being from the other universe doing in the Silver Sea?”
Feigning weakness and anxiety, Dr. Phillips responded in a shaky voice, “Those…creatures…they took me hostage.”
“Who took you hostage?”
“The Muspellum! They took me to a place they called the Void.”
Thoriel, now on high alert, quickly surmised, “We shall take you to our Elders, they will know what to do with you. What is your name, human?”
“Chase, Chase Phillips.”
Thoriel ordered two of his guardsmen to whisk him off to Aeton, while he followed closely behind.
Upon arriving at the Temple, Chase was taken to a small enclave, awaiting Natriel and Yenna. One guard was appointed to the human. Chase, his mind now filled with the devious inspirations of the Netherlife, made use of the moment. Unknown to the guard, who stood at attention out in the hallway, next to the door, a small Nether Serpent slid out of the long sleeve of Chase’s shirt and with stealth, flew over to the guard and sunk its fangs into his neck, temporarily paralyzing him, while injecting the poisonous Netherlife into his blood system. When the poison had run its course, the guard fell to the ground, unconscious.
Chase rose up from his chair and stood over the guard crying for help down the corridor, and help quickly came, as four Temple guards, swords drawn, fell upon Chase. Two of the guards violently grabbed Chase, eliciting a moan from him. The other two knelt down beside their comrade, checking his vitals.
Just then Natriel and Yenna, rounded the corner, came upon the scene. “What goes on here?” Natriel asked.
One guard responded, “My lord Natriel, we heard the human yelling for help, and came upon our fellow guardsman, lying still upon the floor. It does not appear that the human attacked him, nor can we find any outward sign of an injury, and his vitals are fine.”
Suddenly, the guard, a little groggy, but awake, disclosed, “I was at attention, standing sentry when I felt a sting on the side of my neck.
But upon further inspection by Yenna, she found no marks or blood wherein he had felt the pain. Yenna ordered one guard to escort him to seek medical attention, while she and Natriel attended to their interrogation of the human.
Natriel inquired, “What is your name, human?”
“Chase Phillips.”
“And how did you, a human who exists in the other universe, come into the Silver Sea?”
Chase, depicting an abused soul as best he could, recounted, “A man, his name was Lucius. He and his cohorts tricked me! I teach at our centers of higher learning, when I chanced upon the ancient art of Intheism. He invited me to his Castle and deceived me. He promised I would experience higher enlightenment, but what he really intended was that I be one of his experiments.”
Natriel and Yenna exchanged glances, knowing who this Lucius really was and knowing that Satrina must be involved as well.
“Continue.”
“They extracted my DNA. They told me they needed it to raise an ancient ruler from a deep sleep.”
“Bandread!” surmised Yenna.
“Yes, that’s his name! After they got what they wanted, I was taken to a place called the Void. I don’t know how long I was there.” Then, breaking down with a halting voice, and choking back tears, he pleaded, “Please! I feel like I’m going crazy! Take me back home!”
Natriel sensed there was more to this human, but he could not quite put his finger on it. “How did you come to our shores?” he questioned.
“This being, not unlike you, but big and with wings, flew me to the land of the Xcelenes. It was there that they ordered me to vow my allegiance or be killed. I gave them my allegiance. They wanted to use me in their invasion upon my native city, Noab. I was taken on a recent invasion of another city. The citizens were overwhelmed by the surprise attack and in the sudden chaos, I took this boat and have rowed my hands raw to just get away from the evil I witnessed. That is how I came upon your shores.”
“Tell me, Chase, is there any information you have concerning an impending invasion of our city?”
“I heard warriors boasting aboard the vessel carrying us into the besieged city, that Aeton would be in flames on the 6th Day of Ishar. I do not understand that terminology.”
Yenna, her face gripped with a sudden sense of impending doom, warned, “Natriel, that is tomorrow!”
To one of the guards Natriel ordered, “Go, summon Thoriel at once. Tell him to sound the alarm! War is upon us! Human, come with me!”
Yenna interrupted Natriel, “I will meet you soon, I have reason to suspect infiltration among our ranks. I will report my findings to the Elders.”
Natriel, with Chase in tow and accompanied by two guards, hurried to their command post overlooking the Sea. Awaiting them were Lionus, Isidora, and Atreus.
When Natriel entered the control center overlooking the Sea, all three Elders bowed their heads in respect, acknowledging Natriel as Commander of all their forces. “Please report Isidorus,” he said.
“My lord Natriel, all squadrons are dispatched and are on high alert. One hundred thousand of our best warriors will launch to the most extreme heights of the Canopy, undetected, they will punish the enemy from above.”
“Atreus.”
“Our legions are positioned along the wall my lord, and our most specialized fighters are assigned in the wood, ready to deploy ambushes upon the invaders.”
“Despite heavy losses we incurred when they attacked our land, our most trained warriors managed to escape and are at the ready to sabotage any undersea threat.”
Natriel scanned the black horizon, his vision penetrating the darkness, “They will arrive at dawn my friends. Pray that we receive favor from the Image Maker.”
“Natriel? May I rest? I am but human, I am not like your kind,” begged Chase.
“Yes, you may. Guard, take the human into the galley, there are enclaves in which he may take his leave until dawn.”
Unknown to Natriel, the guard he ordered to do so, was the one bitten by the Nether Snake.
◆◆◆
Sailing from the Land of the Xcelenes, a formidable armada sailed directly for Aeton.
Aboard the flagship, Maxim stood on the bridge with his commanders and Balik. “Well Balik, the time has come. Are your Muspellum warriors ready to engage Destiners?”
“My warriors are more than a match for mere Destiners.”
“Don’t be over confident Balik and underestimate our enemy. He is shrewd and skillful.”
“We will engage only if your Xcelenes fail to win the day, Maxim.”
And facing his antagonist, Maxim spat, “We will win the day Balik!”
Faint hints of morning light appeared on the horizon, and a distant shadow rising in the darkness gave hint of the Destiner coastline. Soon, brothers would spill the blood of brothers, a travesty the Image Maker never intended.
When dawn shed its light on the Destiner coastline, Natriel and the inhabitants of Aeton were greeted with a dreadful sight: the Xcelene armada had arrived.
The flotilla boasted five hundred ships, all with the black flag of the Xcelenes unfurled in the morning breeze. Maxim, standing in the bridge of the flagship observed, “They have bolstered their defenses far more than our intelligence reports have informed us. But are they ready for an undersea assault?”
Balik sneered, “This Natriel, I have heard rumors of his wisdom, Maxim. I am sure he is adequately prepared for all assaults.”
Return of Philon Page 8
