The pommel of the commanding officer's sword came crashing down across the back of Levi's head, sending him sprawling to the floor. 'Oh, thank you, sir,' he said, laughing. To his own men he said, 'Clap them in irons. The king is waiting.'
VOICES
Gideon followed the smooth stone wall of the pitch black corridor. He thought he knew where the tunnel led, but in the dark he couldn't be sure. Chaos had reigned on the training field prior to the explosions which had brought down the mountain around them. He coughed on the dust still hanging in the air, unseen.
Gideon's progress remained slow going and he had no idea how long he'd been following this wall. Several times his fingers had scrambled across breaks in the corridor, doors that opened to more darkness. He fought the urge to change directions, at least until he'd exhausted this route. It would be far too easy to become hopelessly lost among the tunnels used by The Order.
After what could have easily been hours searching, Gideon spotted a small shaft of light piercing the tunnel ahead. He stumbled toward it, drawn like a moth to a flame. The darkness seemed all consuming around him. He had to get out somehow.
When Gideon reached the light, he realized the entire tunnel had collapsed just ahead of where he was standing. The light poured in through jagged pieces of rock piled on top of one another. As he peered through the opening, Gideon noticed other small breaks in the rock allowing light to filter through.
He was so close to freedom, but still trapped. There appeared to be nowhere else to go. Back the way he'd come, the entrance had been sealed by the ensuing avalanche. Here on this end, it appeared to be the same. All other routes might lead to nowhere in the darkness. Even if he tried the other ways, he might become lost and never find his way back to this place again.
Despair descended upon him. How had he come to this place? In the back of his mind, this all seemed like divine justice for his betrayal of The Order-his betrayal of Shaddai. Still, he couldn't will himself to simply accept this fate. He had to try and get free-die trying at the very least.
Gideon pushed his fingers into the opening among the rocks. Nothing budged as he applied as much pressure as he could stand. He tried again, screaming as he strained to shift any part of the stones piled above him. It suddenly occurred to him that he might manage to shift the stones only to have the whole heap collapse on top of him. But he couldn't stand it. He had to try anyway. If it crushed him, then so be it. At least he wouldn't have to sit here and die of thirst, scrabbling desperately at a few rays of sunlight.
However, try as he might, Gideon couldn't budge a single stone. All remained locked against him with only the slightest measure of light coming through. He panted as his muscles relaxed. A search of the tunnel itself yielded nothing that could be used to pry the stones. He was trapped indefinitely.
Gideon slumped back against the wall and sat on the stone floor. His breathing slowed as he watched the light, a beacon in the night taunting him with his hopelessness. He sat watching it for a long time, resigning himself more each moment to his fate. It was over.
Your child is lost to Mordred and his demons. At the very least, he will die. But if not, what manner of man might he become? Another brutal warlord, only kept alive to amuse the dark lord for his victory over Shaddai's priest? His knowledge of his own father, if any, would be that of a traitor to his Order, a weak minded fool not worthy of being remembered.
Voices echoed in Gideon's mind-but not his own. As he watched the light dim to orange, becoming pale blues and grays, Gideon realized he was not as alone as he might have thought. The voices continued, taunting him, writhing in the darkness around him unseen, disembodied.
'Who are you!' he shouted.
Laughter.
Gideon stood now, his anger burning through his despair. 'Show yourself, demon!'
More laughter, but then the voice took form. An image appeared, almost human in appearance, but decidedly not. The demon hung upon the wall completely oblivious to any constraints of gravity. Gideon stood firm, unafraid. The demon's appearance was at least a little better than dying alone-he hoped. If it was here, then almost certainly there was a purpose. And maybe that meant he must be freed from his tomb.
'Enough of your games,' he challenged. 'State your business, so I can get on with my dying in peace.'
The demon smiled at this. 'A welcome event I can assure you, priest.' The smile faded. 'But Mordred isn't finished with you yet.'
'There's nothing I can do about that,' Gideon said. 'I'm trapped here and there's no way out. He can't command a corpse.'
The demon didn't seem fazed by his indifference in the least. 'You will journey to Wayland, priest. There you will assassinate King Stephen in a public place. If, in the process, you should find the Deliverer of prophecy, you will also kill him.'
'To the Pit with you!' Gideon shouted. 'I can't go anywhere now!'
The demon leered at him and then swiped his arm across the rock where the light shone into the tunnel. The mass of stone erupted outward in all directions, leaving a gaping wound in the tunnel for Gideon to climb out.
The demon faded away in the darkness, its last statement barely above a whisper. 'Fail and your Sarah's child will perish slowly in flame.'
KING STEPHEN
Gideon knew well what the demon had meant by Sarah's child perishing in flame. If his son grew in the care of Mordred, he would be taught to hate Shaddai and would ultimately reject salvation for the wickedness he would be brought up to love. It wasn't death by Mordred's hand that threatened his child, but the life he would live and the soul he would lose, if Gideon failed.
Upon coming out of his rocky tomb, Gideon had found his former home, the Temple of Shaddai, more ruined than he could have imagined. This place where generations of Shaddai's priests had served their lord for centuries, now stood a gaping crater in the side of the mountain-a smoldering pile of rubble. He could not discern any part of the structure left intact. No one human, or animal, stirred. Of all the priests who had remained to fight Grimwald's army of hybrids, none remained alive.
For Grimwald's part, the same was true. There was no sign of the venomous general or his demonic soldiers anywhere in the great smoking quarry that remained. He had been buried beneath tons of rock with every abomination he'd bred and brought into Shaddai's Temple. Perhaps this was Shaddai's will. It pleased Gideon to think that Shaddai's servants had served him faithfully to their ends. The army Mordred had sent had perished with the prize they had come to take. A fitting end.
And still, for some reason, Gideon could not discern, he remained alive. Why had Shaddai allowed him to go on when all the others had died in this cataclysm? Perhaps to let him live with the agony of his own betrayal-to see what his traitorous actions had caused. He couldn't be sure, but one thing remained. His son lived and Gideon would see this mission through in order to save him. It was all he had left.
Two days more, traveling through the old passages used by his former Order, had brought Gideon to the very edge of the Thornhill Mountains. Before him lay King Stephen's Wall, the guarded boundary between Wayland and Nod. King Stephen had commissioned its building once Mordred's power grew in Nod and it became clear that he would eventually seek to conquer Wayland, as well as the other nations around him.
So far, the mountains and the wall beyond had kept the threat neutralized. In fact, Mordred had not even tried, yet, to enter Stephen's country. But that wouldn't last. Gideon had seen the preparations being made back in Emmanuel for just such an invasion. Mordred would come. The only question being when?
Gideon watched the fortress which stood over the road proceeding into Wayland. The wall itself was virtually impossible to climb over. Not only for the height of it, but that jagged, razor sharp protrusions were the only things to grab hold of. Only a little pressure was necessary to slice right into hands or feet coming into contact with
