reaches the mainland and Mordred’s army. In fact, I think we should prepare for the possibility that we might not be able to rescue Gideon, at all.”
Ethan almost gasped at the suggestion. “Of course we’ll get him back. It’s the Lord’s will for us to get him back.”
Levi gave Ethan a puzzled look. “Why would you say that? There’s nothing written concerning Gideon. We know the Word tells about you as the Deliverer, but nothing of this. I like Gideon very much, but the best we can hope for is that it may be Shaddai’s will for us to get him back.”
Ethan looked disappointed. He hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“We will certainly do all that we can for Gideon, but as a priest of Shaddai, he is fully prepared to give his life,” Seth said.
“Well, I’ve defeated Rommil’s brother in the past,” Ethan said.
“I don’t know about his brother, but I can say, from experience, that Hevas Rommil is a very formidable enemy, not to mention Mordred himself.”
Levi scratched at the stubble on his face. “I’d say they’ll be taking extra precautions considering how we invaded the palace before. Mordred won’t allow us to infiltrate so easily this time. And there’s the matter of Jericho.”
Ethan felt his stomach churn uneasily at the mention of the demon.
“Jericho and his demons will be watching for you, Ethan,” Levi said.
“Mordred must realize by now that you will come for him, according to the prophecy,” Seth said. “They’ll most likely set a trap for you, using Gideon as bait. It’s not him they want out of the way, but you. As the Deliverer, you alone have the power to destroy Mordred.”
Ethan turned toward the bow of the ship. Dung had just finished the piece of fruit given to him by Levi. He licked his paws, then looked up at Ethan and twitched his whiskers inquisitively.
Ethan smiled and looked back at Levi and Seth. “Then I guess we’ll have to do something they won’t expect.
UNWELCOME WELCOME
Gideon had been kept for unnumbered days in his cell aboard Rommil’s ship. He had been unable to find any way of escape though he had tried many times. He’d lost count of the times Rommil’s men had come down to the brig to beat him. They had learned by now to keep him in chains for it.
By the time he felt the ship come to port, scraping against the pier, Gideon had lost a great deal of weight. Rommil had only given him enough food and water to keep him alive. Many nights, during the voyage, Gideon had seen terrible visions. He knew demons were with them on the ship, but still the supernatural taunting grew maddening.
On one particular night when Gideon wondered if he could take anymore, a light had appeared which drove away the specters. He had heard a voice emanating from the light which strengthened him with the assurance that Shaddai had not forsaken him. It had been enough.
Now he heard the soldiers coming down the outer hall to retrieve him. When they came through the door, they carried swords and pistols. Though he was emaciated, the soldiers still feared the priest of Shaddai.
Five men remained outside of his cage while two others took keys and removed his chains. The skin had been worn away at Gideon’s wrists and ankles. The soldiers kicked at him to get up, but he barely had the strength.
“Pick him up,” the guard captain ordered. The two soldiers lifted Gideon up and dragged him out of the cell with his legs trailing limp behind him. He tried to walk as they reached the stairs, but it proved difficult.
The sun stung his eyes when the soldiers reached the main deck with him. He’d not seen it in weeks now. Gideon shut his eyes against the glare, but enjoyed the feel of it upon his pale skin. The soldiers brought him before General Rommil, who had been waiting for him on deck. “Well, priest, how are you feeling?”
Gideon didn’t bother with a reply. He knew, of course, that Rommil had no care for his feelings. Rommil had made sure, rather, that he received poor treatment the entire way. He wouldn’t give the Wraith General the satisfaction of his moaning. Instead, Gideon got his feet under him and stood up between the men escorting him.
“I see,” Rommil snarled. “Still some pride in you yet. I trust Lord Mordred will break it from you. He is waiting to meet you, priest.” Rommil turned and walked down the gang plank toward the pier below. The soldiers pushed along after him with Gideon in tow.
They carried him down the pier to a wagon which sat waiting for him. Essentially it was a cage on four wheels. The soldiers unshackled Gideon and threw him inside, all under Rommil’s watchful eye. The Wraith General mounted a black steed, larger and more muscular than a normal horse. The look in the animal’s eye warned that only the Wraith Riders could tame his kind.
The march from the shores of Nod toward the White Palace at the city of Emmanuel began. Gideon turned back to see the ship and the harbor. He recognized it as the same one they had attacked aboard Captain Bonifast’s ship with the mercenary fleet which had ultimately betrayed them. That meant the journey up to the city would only be several miles.
Soon he would meet Mordred himself. By now, Gideon supposed they must have kept him alive for some purpose. Either they desired sport of him through torture, or Mordred intended to use him as bait in a trap for Ethan. Perhaps, they meant to do both.
The procession of soldiers, with General Rommil at the head, wound its way up the cliffs by way of a road paved with stones. The few horses among them clip-clopped as their hooves struck the road. The caged wagon wobbled a great deal. Gideon groaned as his sore body bounced on the rough timbers constituting the floor of his mobile prison.
He grabbed the bars over his head, trying to relieve the pain by hoisting himself up a little. His arms strained and trembled against his own weight. Gideon looked into the sky, closed his eyes, and prayed: for deliverance if possible, but more for strength to endure whatever lay ahead of him in the city of Emmanuel and Mordred’s palace.
The walls of the city stood as tall as he’d ever seen them, but the glory of them was gone. The once- polished, white stone had grown dingy with mold and caked with dust. Great thorny vines clawed upward from the base, thick and gnarled. Gideon wondered if it was a lack of care, or if they had been planted on purpose to dissuade attackers.
Double iron portcullises rose into the upper portion of the wall as their procession approached. General Rommil led them through the gates, but when they entered, there was no applause. Gideon supposed Rommil’s return, along with his capture, might have given Mordred’s faithful reason for celebration.
When he saw the few people actually roaming the streets of the city, he felt pity for them. There remained no joy in their expressions. Fear had taken residence now. Civilians were in short supply, from what he could see. The military seemed to encompass nearly the entire city now.
As the procession passed through the once-thriving business district, Gideon saw the palace in full view. It too had been allowed to deteriorate. The walls appeared dirty, and the spacious gardens had been left to grow wild, or had been trampled under foot by soldiers. Ivy, mingled with thorns, grew up the sides of the palace walls and it seemed to Gideon that goodness and purity itself was being dragged down into the pit.
The golden statues, wrought by artificers shortly after Mordred’s takeover of the city, stood covered in bird droppings-a testament to their true value.
Gideon saw, to his left, long rows of plain buildings which had been erected on the spacious, manicured lawns. Doors far to tall for a normal person opened at the ends. In the courtyards, where many soldiers trained, he saw the reason for them.
Giants, like those described by Ethan, sparred with one another in tunics of crimson and red. They wielded large maces and clubs, which looked like small trees. Some of them might have been ten or twelve feet tall. And there appeared to be enough of them to make an army themselves. But they were not alone. Thousands of men trained on similar quadrangles all across the city, from one wall to the other, several miles away.
