barge, through a dozen portside oar placements, into the sea.
Ethan's ethereal body prickled with spiritual energy, forcing him to turn around. He barely managed to bring his blade up to block the first strike of a demon in its disembodied form. Their ethereal swords clashed with a bright flash of discharged power. Ethan noticed, behind this reptilian-faced opponent, a host of spirits coming toward the barge. He forced the spirit back and drew another blade to his aid.
While blocking the demon's strike he retaliated with his second sword, driving the heavenly sword into its chest. The wicked spirit dissolved, a sandcastle blown away by a gust of wind. More demons came at him, but there were too many to fight. He would surely be overwhelmed by their numbers. Isaiah's sage advice rang true as he realized his foolish mistake in coming onboard the barge in the first place.
Ethan whirled around, flinging first one blade and then the second. A demon blocked the first, but the second cut him through. Seeing a successful manner of defending himself, Ethan flew backward away from the barge, hurling heavenly swords into the throng of pursuing demons as fast as they rematerialized in his hands. It had the effect of hurling rocks at a swarm of bees-only those caught unaware were struck, but it staggered and confused their attack enough for Ethan to remain ahead of them.
The armada had begun to give wide berth to the crippled barge now drifting with the current amidst a huge debris field floating upon the surface of the sea around it. Ethan regretted only having the chance to disable one of Mordred's ships, but it was all he could manage and, perhaps, more than he should have ever attempted.
The horde of demons began to gain in their pursuit as the mass of ships fell away, becoming only toys in a great pond. Suddenly Ethan gasped in pain. His old wounds, delivered by the Prince of Demons, ached, sending waves of agony through his ethereal form. His flight through the spiritual realm slowed, and the demons gained on him.
Ethan staggered, trying to keep on going. Despite not having to breathe, he felt as though he were suffocating. His pace slowed even more, until the demons came within striking range. Several raised their weapons, which transformed into ethereal bows, and fired arrows of flame toward him. Ethan cried out, 'Lord Shaddai, please deliver me! I can't make it on my own!'
Just as suddenly as Ethan's strength had been sapped away, it returned unto him tenfold. He shot forward away from the horde of pursuing demons. Their flaming arrows dissipated into nothing behind him as the clouds blurred, his escape now faster than he'd ever traveled on the spiritual plane before.
Jericho hovered high above Mordred's command ship sailing on below him. The barge, where the boy had attacked, remained crippled and drifting. Several ships of the armada had diverted and were presently trying to moor along side the vessel in order to take on its remaining men and supplies. The operation would take a while, but with the help of his demons, they might accomplish the task in a third of the time.
The horde of demons which had taken up pursuit, chasing the Deliverer away, were now returning, a black cloud on the horizon, approaching fast. They began to disperse to clean-up duties as Jericho's thoughts directed them. One of the demons returned to Jericho directly. 'My Lord, we've chased the boy away from the armada.'
Jericho's eyes burned into the demon lieutenant before him. 'You mean he escaped, don't you? I wanted the boy destroyed, or captured at the very least.'
The abased demon bowed his head. 'My apologies, my lord. We thought we had him, before his prayer allowed him to escape.'
Jericho closed his eyes slowly, frustrated. 'Of course it did. Organize the cleanup of this debacle and get the armada moving again as quickly as possible.'
'Yes, my lord,' the demon lieutenant said, snapping to attention. He flew straightway to the barge and the other demons already beginning to help align two of the other vessels so they could transport the salvageable materials onboard for the remainder of the journey to Wayland.
Jericho descended to the bridge of the renovated Man-o-war, now serving as Mordred's command ship. The warlord stood on the poop deck, watching the progress of those ships diverted to the cleanup. Jericho became visible to him with a flash of light meant to draw his attention away from the sea.
Mordred turned, as expected, clearly unsurprised to see Jericho standing there. 'What news? Was it the boy?'
Jericho stood stiff, emotionless. 'Yes.'
'Did your demons destroy him?'
'No.'
Mordred seemed to prickle at the news, though he likely had suspected as much. 'I see. Well, you seem to be unconcerned by this turn of events. The boy will certainly deliver news of our imminent attack to Stephen.'
'I doubt very much that our voyage has managed to remain hidden. The ships we encountered and destroyed near the Northern Cape almost certainly got away a distress call by messenger hawk before we ever engaged them. The boy's report will make little difference. At least his retreat tells us that he is as weak as we might hope.'
Mordred considered that piece of wisdom with a slight smile, but then relented. 'Could he have seen the new ships?'
'Very doubtful, My Lord,' Jericho said. 'Your modifications to the Man-o-wars would appear as nothing but more sail stowed away in extra compartments. They will not expect what is coming.'
Mordred smiled. 'Yes, of course they won't. How could they? And Wayland will be broken for their insolence once and for all.'
KING'S ADDRESS
Gideon heard the mass of people long before he ever saw them crowding through the streets of Wayland's capital. He had breached the wall with ease, using a secret tunnel left by The Order of Shaddai. The tunnel had been shown to him years before by Isaiah as one dug for an emergency escape in the event of a siege. For whatever reason, the tunnel had remained unguarded and perhaps even forgotten all these years later.
With his bow in hand, Gideon crept threw mostly deserted streets. Dusk was fast approaching, but still everyone in the city had gathered at the central palace courtyard. The King must be addressing the people.
Gideon noticed there were few flat rooftops in Evelah. Finding a place close enough to the palace and away from the crowds for an assassination would be difficult at best. As he followed the flow of people, he finally came to see thousands gathered before Stephen's palace. High above the crowd stood several guards upon a lone balcony made of polished marble, bearing a tapestry with the King's crest upon it. His target would be easy enough to find if only he could find the right place to shoot from.
To his right, Gideon saw a wall leading away from the palace itself. That might do very nicely, he thought. The crowd consisted of mostly women and children with the elderly sprinkled among them. The debacle at Emmanuel had hurt Stephen more than Gideon had previously realized-thousands of husbands and fathers had never come home to their families.
Gideon latched onto that thought. Perhaps there would be some justice in his actions today. The King who had disobediently assumed the role of Shaddai's Deliverer, and caused these people so much pain, would soon be dead.
Dusk had come sooner than Ethan had expected. As he passed over Evelah, heading for the Temple, he noticed the crowds gathering below at the palace. Something important must be about to happen. Ethan flew over the thousands assembled before the wide marble veranda as King Stephen appeared, flanked by his royal guard. Ethan came in close, still invisible to the naked eye, and perched against the vertical wall to Stephen's left side.
As the King stepped up to the marble banister, the crowd below became quiet, eager to hear what news could be so important that it must be shared at this late hour in the day. 'My good people,' the King said in a deep booming voice which, due to the walls enclosing the courtyard lawn, managed to reverberate to the fullest extent of the crowd. 'We have suffered here in Wayland with the loss of so many of our esteemed warriors at the hands
