Chapter Seven

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Awakening, The Prophet

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Moses stood looking at Mischa White. Her eyes were the same, and her voice. But just yesterday he had seen this woman in vibrant strength and beauty. The figure before him was grey-haired, and handsome instead of stunning.

“This is not a request Prophet, you will come now.”

She grabbed his wrist with strength, still iron regardless of apparent age. Moses looked up at the sky. The world spun, turned to grey, and then there was blackness.

Mischa’s voice spoke.

“Rest easy Prophet. You are travelling between the worlds. This place is peace. But even it is passing.”

Moses looked about. There were cracks appearing in the fabric of whatever reality they were passing across. Glaring red light broke through, and he could see it eating away at the darkness. Although it wasn’t darkness. His eyes were adjusting, and it was not dark. There was light, but it was fading.

“Careful now, we pass the boundary.”

There was a flash and Moses felt his body gain weight. His legs were unprepared, and he stumbled to the ground. Mischa’s hand was still grasping his wrist. He pulled his arm slowly away. Where their flesh had touched was pink, like newborn skin. It tingled, and for an instant Moses thought he saw blue flash across it.

“We have arrived.”

It was the land in his mind, but more .. And less.

“How long has it been since you came to me the first time?”

Mischa looked at him, speaking with some regret. “Three score and ten. The power of the Three ..”

Moses cut her off. “I know, I wrote this remember?” He grinned, in spite of the growing fear within him. The song was sweeter here, if possible. Resounding in his head. It should have hampered his thoughts, but he found himself thinking very, very quickly.

“Why did you call me Prophet?”

Mischa looked away. “I cannot tell you. It was the only name I was given.”

Moses could see her tiredness.

But he needed time to think. If this was his world, then it should abide by his rules. The ones he had created. However, seventy years is a long time. A lot could happen, if the world was alive and breathing.

This place certainly looked alive. They had arrived on a slight hilltop, lush short-cropped grass was under their feet. A line of stone made a circle around them, deep blue color moving through the stone. This signified it’s power. Moses had been fascinated by the mythos that was Stonehenge. The Druids, their magic, their respect for nature. It was here.

Still. First things first. He needed to find the Three. That was important. They, from the beginning of the tales of Jesse King, were the key to everything. They were the cords that held creation in place.

A three-fold cord is not swiftly broken.

Mischa turned away and began walking south. “Follow me Prophet. The King wants to see you immediately.”

The King? Is that Jesse?

Moses had put within the story the similarities between Jesse King and a ruling king. But Jesse King had so far abandoned and refused all attempts to make him leader. His was a single journey, a lone wolf, like the Phantom. Although not dressed in purple tights.

If seventy years has passed, who knows what is different. King could have died. If the world grew on as I wanted  it to, anything could have happened.

He followed Mischa White along the road, through the woods. Sounds of life echoed across the ground. Birds, animals. Fish danced through the water of a creek they walked over.

Ulrik’s Stream. And the standing stone .. Jesse’s Door.

Coming out of the woods, they reached another road. A car was driving around the bend, it’s motor noisy. Mischa kept to the side of the road. Moses followed. He had a pretty good idea where they were going.

Jesse King had owned a mansion. It was large, sprawling, and very debonair. Lavish parties were held there, the beautiful and famous congregating to socialise at the home of one of the richest men in the land. Of course, to Jesse it was a game. His riches had come in the first books, after rescuing various people, and investing in some good projects. Henderson was the brains behind Jesse King’s money. Jacob Henderson. A man with the golden touch.

As they came to the edges of the city, Jericho, the Jericho of this world, Moses was struck by how real everything was. Moving. Alive.

This is real, as real as anything can be. I can touch the ground, feel the air. I can walk, run. I can probably be killed.

Jericho had been a magnificent city. Afterwards it became a broken place, retaining some vestiges of the haunting beauty that brought the greatest of kings and presidents to visit.

They would gaze upon it’s beauty and be lost for words.

Jericho had sung with magic. It’s fall was terrible, and the magic broken.

But the city before him had taken on a look of new life. It sparkled.

The magic is here again.

Jesse King’s mansion had been on the outskirts of Jericho, and as they crested a hill, it’s towers came into view. Almost. They shimmered, as though a mirage. Moses looked hard at the buildings, and saw them fall away. There was nothing but a lonely house there. Single and desolate.

“What happened here?”

Mischa did not look back.

“Madness came upon the King. Daerin Sarvant returned from the dead and befriended the King. Nothing is as it was.”

Moses stopped. “Wait a minute. We are talking about Jesse King right?”

At that Mischa also stopped, and turned to face him. There were tears in her eyes. “Jesse King has been dead almost seventy years. Not long after I first visited you.”

Though vigor still remained in her body, and her mind was sharp, Moses saw the pain that rested in Mischa White.

Mischa had been experimented on as a child, and this probably accounted for her long life. Her other talents, her mutations had come about during and after the experimentation.

“Prophet. You should have come back with me.”

Moses’ anger flared. “How could I have known? You were my imagination! None of this is real!”

That doesn’t ..

“.. Make me any less alive.” Mischa had anger in her too. “Come. We must go. The King, Joshua King, son of Jesse, awaits us.” In a lower tone, she added. “As does the Sarvant.”

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