Chapter Eleven

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Awakening, The Prophet

As they moved through Jericho, Moses saw life. Lots of people. Men and women walked the streets in suits. Tall buildings of glass windows stretched high. Kids ran in the suburban streets. And finally, they came to the heart of Jericho. It was geographically the middle, and built to reflect an ancient understanding. That each city, town, each community, has a heart. It beats, and the better it is recognised, the stronger they will be.

There were no walls around the heart. It was an area of trees, and within the trees lay the most powerful relic and magic and mutation within the land. A single standing stone, blue symbols and writing carved beneath the surface, flowing, pulsing. Power radiated from this place.

They stopped a little way from the trees. Getting out, Moses could smell the difference in the air. Fresh and alive.

A deathly smoke hovers over the King house and grounds. But here, there is life.

A few minutes later they walked through the trees, into the clearing where the big rock stood. Sara was there, the Sarvant .. And Mischa. She was dressed in white. Sara in black. The Sarvant, grey (as was his custom).

A great wooden cross lay on the ground, a hole dug before it’s bottom end.

“Prophet. We welcome you to the heart. But you know about this place. Probably better than we do.” His grin said he didn’t believe thatt. The Sarvant went on. “Sara here, this lovely creature you so kindly gave your first blood, has something happening to her. Magic and mutation, combining themselves within her. As has not been done since your great Jesse King was birthed. Fitting it should have happened on the day it did.” He paused, looking at Sara. The lines had gone from her face. She was growing young again. Strong. Agile in body and mind.

“Samson. Heracles. Kill her.”

The words stunned Moses. His brain tried to take in what had been said.

Why does he want Sara dead?

The twins advanced on Sara, who looked bewilderingly at the Sarvant. “Daerin. What are you doing? I gave up everything for you. My husband .. My baby!”

The Sarvant looked her, a hand rising to stop the advance of the twins. Then he laughed, long and harsh. “Yes, you did. But now you become a key. Not the key, but a key nonetheless. And your death on this Henge will break that which needs to be broken. And I will still have the Prophet with me. Hale and well-met. Hale at least. For the moment.”

He dropped his hand, and the twins started forward again.

Sara pushed her hands out in front, fingers splayed. Fire burst from them, green and blue. It leapt at the twins, and Moses could feel the heat. Both Samson and Heracles took the fire on their chests .. Slowed .. And kept walking. Sara growled. She turned as if to run, but the Sarvant spoke (“Saehd”) and a thin layer of something (like ice) covered her, stilling movement completely.

A voice cracked into the clearing. The twins turned, seeking it’s origin.

“Sarvant. You bitter crazy old man .. Begone from here.”

Figures in blue and green began to appear, dropping from the trees. They were all shapes and sizes, but advanced as one. The Sarvant put up his own hands, red and black fire leaping from them. Visible shields were thrown up, like out of a comic or computer game. One or two weren’t quick enough, and were caught in the flames, burning instantly.

“Twins .. Go. Back to the castle. I will deal with these ..”

A spear of blue light flew at the Sarvant. He deflected the first, but another struck him below the ribs. He stumbled, but didn’t fall.

“Fools!" Is this the best ragg-ed tagg-ed army you could come up with? I will have you dead within the moment.”

More shards of blue and green and white light attacked him, but he hunkered down, then thrust up, bouncing the lights back at their senders. Figures were lying, some still, some moving, all across the clearing, within the trees. The Sarvant pushed his hands, and the ground shook, rippling outwards. Moses was knocked to the ground. The red and black fire came again, catching figures up.

They are losing. For all that it is .. They are losing.

The twins had got to his side, and were protecting him. They had their own brand of magic/mutation. Their bodies seemed to be able to take any number of the light weapons upon them. Then one struck Heracles in the head .. And another. A tall woman (her hood was thrown back) struck out at Heracles with what Moses could only imagine was some kind of mind attack. He slumped to the ground.

Samson went mad.

And Moses saw another side of the mutation that lived within the twins. His eyes grew red, all of the eye. His veins boiled, and his skin became hard. Armored like a Rhino, or Elephant. He screamed and growled, wordless agony, lifting his brother from the ground.

The huge figure of Samson (who had grown within his rage, ten feet high at least) ran from the battle, brushing off attacks like they were insects, and knocking down any who got in his way.

The Sarvant looked at the fleeing Samson, and Moses saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Moses looked, and saw that Mischa was right behind the Sarvant, who didn’t seem to realise. She had a dagger in her hands, which lifted and swung down with hate and anger burning from her eyes.

The Sarvant then knew something was happening. He turned at the same moment the dagger struck him, so the blade struck shoulder bone instead of puncturing the neck. His arm came up, and Mischa gagged, then began to struggle against an unseen force, which was lifting her above the ground.

“You are done Mischa.” The Sarvant seemed sad, which was very strange.

Mischa White, wife to Jesse King, mother of Joshua King, one-time hero of the lands, stopped her battle. She looked at Moses, and he felt her power coming forth.

“Find him.”

The sounds of the external quieted, as though a cone of silence was descending around them. Moses, watching. The Sarvant, arm outstretched. Mischa White, King’s Rose, forgotten by none who met her, hovering above the ground.

Mischa pulled inwards, a fetal position, and then burst forth. The Sarvant looked surprised for a moment, golden ashes falling about him. A wind sprang up, and the song returned, growing, quickly, with strength.

As the ashes touched him, the Sarvant groaned.

He is in pain. Mischa did something powerful just now.

The Sarvant didn’t have the strength to even look up at Moses from where he had slumped to the ground. He mumbled a few words in the ancient language of the First Magic and flashed out of sight. A faint smell of the sea wafted across to Moses.

The Sarvant uses the First Magic now. That is not good.

The tall woman who had struck at Heracles came forward. Her auburn hair was netted with burrs and grass, her face dirty.

She is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

“Prophet. Your coming is bittersweet.”

She seemed angry, and sad.

The figures came forward, heads uncovered. They gathered about the standing stone, and a song began. It twined with that in Moses’ head. Sorrow though, not joy.

They are mourning Mischa, and the others lost.

The voices lifted high and low, words of pain and loss.

Afterwards, the woman turned to Moses. “What are you going to do?”

Moses laughed. “You’re joking right? What am I going to do? Ha.”

She wasn’t laughing. The figures were leaving the clearing, and a man came up to them.

“Jenn, we need to gather them.”

Jenn, the woman, shook her head. “It is not right Jason.”

“He is wounded. Mischa wounded him.”

Jenn stiffened. “I would not hear that name for the passing time. It is not done.”

Jason, the dark-haired bearded (big guy) man grimaced. “The time for ritual is done. The Prophet is here. We must do what needs be done to rid the world of the Sarvant.”

Jenn returned the look, steel and fire in her eyes. “You will not summon the peoples yet. But yes, it will happen soon. The time is come, and all is changing.”

Jason didn’t like it, but nodded, accepting the decision. Jenn looked to be the leader of the group .. Moses supposed they were rebels against the Sarvant’s dominion (if he had a dominion, of that Moses wasn’t sure yet).

After he had gone, Jenn stepped forward. The breeze rustled her hair, strands swept in front of her eyes, over her face. He reached up and brushed the hair away. She moved in and kissed him quickly on the lips, then whispered the strangest words of all.

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