The Order of Shaddai rs-2 Page 2

  One man approached them with a very warm greeting, and Gideon lit down from his horse to embrace him. Levi and Ethan remained in the saddle watching curiously.

  “Ah, my boy, how are you?” the man said.

  “I’m doing well, Arness, and you? How is your good family?”

  “Very well, but missing your face, my boy,” Arness said as he patted Gideon on the back. “You’ll be coming out to the farm later, yes?”

  “Of course, we wouldn’t dare miss the opportunity. By the way, Arness, these are my very good friends, Captain Levi Bonifast and Ethan Hawk. We’re on our way to see Isaiah at the Temple.”

  Levi, Ethan, and Arness exchanged nods, acknowledging one another. “Of course, gentlemen, any friend of Gideon is welcome in our home.” Then he turned to Gideon. “Will you be along directly? Sarah and her mother are still working at the laundry, but it won’t be long before they’re home.”

  “Actually, I thought I would dispatch a message from the Willow Tree and perhaps treat my friends to a cool drink.”

  “Even better. That way we can bid you a proper welcome with a hot meal when you arrive at the farm…say in two hours?”

  “That sounds perfect,” Gideon said, “Just enough time for us to take advantage of the Willow Tree’s baths before we arrive.”

  Arness patted Gideon on the shoulder and waved goodbye for the time being. He walked down the street toward the market.

  “What’s the Willow Tree?” Levi asked.

  “It’s an inn of sorts-that large building, down the road there,” he said.

  “That bath certainly does sound nice,” Ethan said.

  “Right this way, lads.” Gideon led his horse and his friends down the street toward the Willow Tree Inn.

  Sarah, daughter of Arness, walked across the hard clay street toward the Willow Tree Inn. She was making a delivery of clean linens to their best customer, Mr. Oggle, the proprietor of the Inn. Her golden hair fell midway down her back with a thin braid of the hair cradling the back of her head like a chain.

  Sarah carried two full sacks of linen by herself and cautiously weaved through the traffic of pedestrians and horse drawn wagons. She backed through the swinging double doors and carried the linen inside. Sarah hefted the bags through the maze of tables, being sure not to disturb Mr. Oggle’s guests. A young man, Blane, tended the bar where he served various drinks-concoctions of every tasty sort.

  Blane was a handsome young man with dark hair and a thin mustache. He was not much older than Sarah and had been Mr. Oggle’s apprentice in the business for several years. He said Hello to the eighteen-year-old girl, pointing to the back room where Mr. Oggle was busy counting some of his stock.

  Sarah waited with the bags at the bar where she and Mr. Oggle usually tallied his bill and where she received payment for the laundry owned by her parents. Blane tended to several customers at the other end of the bar while Sarah waited.

  “Hey beautiful, how bout some service at this table!”

  Sarah turned to find a table of well dressed, middle-aged men, four in all, engaged in a game of Tails-a game played with a die and round wafers of wood with characters etched into both sides. Gold and silver coins lay in different amounts before each of the men.

  Sarah smiled politely. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t work here.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask you to bring me a drink, exactly.” The man who spoke was a dapper sort with fine clothes and a larger portion of the money sitting in front of him on the table. His thick hair was dark with gray beginning to weave its way through his wavy locks. He wore a thin beard, mustache, and gold rings upon his fingers. He leered at Sarah with his dark eyes. His devilish, toothy grin made his uncouth intentions all too clear. The other men laughed, thinking their friend quite clever.

  Sarah disregarded him and turned back to the bar. She looked at Blane, whose gaze moved from Sarah to the man. She heard a chair scoot away from the table behind her and feared the worst. She heard his boots lazily slapping the polished, wood floor as he meandered toward her. “Don’t turn your back on me, girl.”

  He grabbed her waist, spinning her to him. The other men laughed and jeered. He grabbed her arms, staying her wrath, and attempted to force a kiss. “Don’t play so hard to get.”

  The man’s breath reeked of liquor. He was drunk even though Sarah knew he had not gotten it at the Willow Tree. “Let go of me!” she shouted as she tried to break free of his grip. Blane walked down the bar, attempting to intervene.

  The dapper gent whistled, and a behemoth lurched away from where he had been standing in the shadows near the door. “Virgil, this kid needs a lesson,” the dapper gent said, gesturing toward Blane.

  Virgil stood seven feet tall and as thick as an oak tree. Muscles rippled and flexed through his massive arms and chest-the latter bound only by a leather vest that seemed strained to contain him. Virgil came to his master’s side, flexing his arms and making strained grabbing motions with each hand, causing his knuckles to pop repeatedly. Blane swallowed the lump in his throat, standing down his protest.

  “That’s better,” the dapper gent said. He whipped Sarah around like a top into Virgil’s grasp, then tossed several gold coins onto the bar. “Now, if you don’t mind, the little lady and I would like to get better acquainted.”

  “I’d like to get better acquainted with you too,” Gideon said.

  All eyes instantly fell on three men standing in the doorway. Blane smiled when he recognized the priest of Shaddai. Some of the Inn’s patrons moved away from Virgil and the dapper gent. A few left the Inn altogether.

  Ethan and Levi stood in the doorway behind Gideon. Mr. Oggle came out of the back room, surveying the situation in his inn. “I don’t want any fighting in here,” he began, but a flick of Virgil’s wrist sent a throwing knife into the wall beside Mr. Oggle’s head, silencing him.

  “I’ll handle this,” Gideon whispered.

  Levi and Ethan shrugged at one another, then stepped out of the way. Neither of them had any doubt about Gideon’s ability, but the hulking mountain of muscle ahead of them stood nearly twice as tall as any of them. The tension in the room felt as though it would snap like an over-wound dulcimer string at any moment.

  Virgil laughed under his breath. “This little pipsqueak needs a lesson.” He shoved Sarah back toward the bar and his master, but the dapper gent was too busy getting out of harm’s way to bother with her anymore. Sarah smiled at Gideon and he returned it. By the time his eyes centered back on the massive bodyguard’s movements, it was too late.

  A throwing knife, one of many carried around Virgil’s waist, snapped through the air, glinting sunlight for the briefest moment between the big hand and its target. There was a brief whistle of air and a snap as the blade hit flesh. Everyone stared in disbelief. The sound had been Gideon’s flesh hitting the blade-specifically the weapon had been caught between the priest’s two palms at chest height.

  “We’ve not even been properly introduced, and you’re already giving presents?” Gideon said. Rather than return the shiny silver blade, he let it fall harmlessly to the floor where the heavy blade stuck into the stained hardwood.

  Sarah breathed a noticeable sigh of relief, once she realized Gideon remained unharmed. Virgil’s expression quickly flashed from astonished to angry. With surprising speed, for a man of his size, he whipped three more throwing knives from his belt. Three dull clunks sounded as each stuck into the wooden wall narrowly missing the priest-Gideon’s lithe movements a blur of evasive action.

  A glimmer of astonishment crossed Virgil’s chiseled features again, but only a glimmer. That was all he had time for. His next facial expression was pain.

  Quick as a flash, Gideon closed the gap between them, smashing a thick fist into Virgil’s left mandibular joint, shattering his jaw. Virgil yelped in pain, but was unable to close his mouth-his jaw having locked into a slightly open position.

  The bodyguard tried to grab Gideon, but he was much too fast. The pri
est ducked beneath Virgil’s muscular arms and double kicked his right knee: once to the front and once to the side. The knee buckled as the second precise impact popped an important tendon. The bodyguard staggered and fell across the table where his master had been gambling-his great bulk smashing it to kindling.

  Virgil moaned in pain, holding his jaw, but he did not get up. Gideon looked toward the dapper gent. “Would now be a good time for you and I to get acquainted, sir, or would you rather apologize to the young lady?”

  He tipped his hat nervously toward Sarah. “I sincerely apologize, ma’am.” Then he and his companions left Virgil where he lay and hurried out of the Willow Tree Inn.

  “Mr. Oggle, I think your physician should probably take a look at this man,” Gideon said, indicating the muscular bodyguard writhing on the ground among the broken furniture.

  “Blane, go get the healer and bring the magistrate as well,” Mr. Oggle said. “And tell him he’s going to need some good men to help him.”

  Blane obeyed instantly. He leaped over the bar, smiling, patting Gideon’s shoulder as he passed him. “Good to see you again.”

  Gideon smiled at the young man, then turned to Sarah. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No, I’m all right,” she said. “It’s good to see you, Gideon.”

  HOME COOKED SECRETS

  Sarah left them to complete her deliveries for her parent’s laundry before she headed home to their farm. True to Gideon’s word, Ethan and Levi got to enjoy the steaming, hot baths at Mr. Oggle’s Willow Tree Inn. The attendants saw to washing road dust from their clothes while they simply relaxed their weary, aching muscles.

  The local magistrate took Virgil, the bodyguard, into custody. The healer, Mr. Lesh, accompanied the prisoner to the stockade, mumbling as he tried to figure out how he could properly wrap the man’s jaw closed so he would still be able to eat. Blane cleaned the mess in the dining room, and business quickly resumed its normal pace at the Willow Tree Inn.

  Once they had cleaned up, nearly two hours later, Gideon led Ethan and Levi to the outskirts of the small town to a solitary dirt road, bringing them to the farm of Arness and his family. The family had done well for themselves in Millertown, and their homestead reflected it.

  Arness also worked in the cattle business. Ethan saw many heifers grazing within the fenced boundaries of Arness’ farm. In other places, he noticed sheep. The house was one of the few two story homes he saw in Millertown. He found it charming, white with glass windows framed by black sills and shutters-currently open.

  The windows were open as well, two small doors which pulled inward opposite of the shutter’s movement. Ethan saw Arness’ wife walking back and forth in the house through the windows, trying to prepare the meal for their arrival. Arness met them outside the house and took their horses. He walked the horses to the barn while waving the men to the house. “Go on inside. We’ll eat shortly.”

  Ethan and Levi followed Gideon through the door where Sarah, the daughter of Arness, greeted them again. “Hello, Gideon…I mean, Master Gideon, sir.”

  Ethan noticed, again, the informal breech of etiquette. She had done the same thing at the Willow Tree. A mistake? He wondered. To address a warrior-priest of Shaddai so informally seemed odd to Ethan, at least for the young daughter of a friend. How well does Gideon know this family, he wondered.

  Arness’ wife, Bella, instructed them from the kitchen. “Won’t you sit, gentlemen?” she said. “I’ll have dinner finished in a moment.”

  “Thank you,” they said, taking the wooden chairs provided for them. A fire burned in the hearth. It felt nice with the air taking on a slight chill as the evening descended. As they rose in elevation on their approach to the Thornhill Mountains, Ethan had noticed the weather changing quite a bit. The colder air was something uncommon where he was from.

  Arness came through the door, just then, all smiles. “Now we can catch up, Master Gideon. Tell me more about your new friends.”

  Ethan looked at Gideon, unsure of what he would tell the man. Was he someone to be trusted with the secret of his identity in the prophecy?

  “This young man is Ethan. He will be training with The Order.”

  “Ah, I see. So you have given your life to the service of the Almighty? Very noble of you, young man, very noble indeed,” Arness said. “I’m sure Gideon has told you how serious a commitment that is.”

  “I can honestly say, I was meant to serve Shaddai with my life,” Ethan said confidently.

  Arness laughed. “Good man. I trust you’ll be blessed in your pursuits there at the Temple. I’ve only ever met one of the warrior-priests who reside in Temple within the Thornhills, and that’s Gideon. He brought us the written Word of Shaddai when all seemed lost. Lawlessness had rooted in Millertown during the days following Mordred’s takeover of Nod. But the Word restored our lives. We became free to pursue righteousness again.”

  “Was it that simple?” Levi asked. “You just received the Word, and that was it?”

  “Well, not quite so simple. When Gideon brought the Word back to us, there were already those in Millertown who staunchly opposed it. Mordred allowed many of his heathen allies to take up governorships in the towns and villages in Nod, including Millertown. But in the end, they were no match for Gideon.” Arness placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “We owe him a great debt for what he has done for this town.”

  “All of the glory is Shaddai’s, Arness,” Gideon said. “But I do appreciate your encouragement, as always.”

  “And what of you, Captain?” Arness asked. “Were you with the military?”

  “Well, yes and no. My background is not as admirable as Gideon’s. I was involved in thievery and wickedness as a pirate for many years. I became quite wealthy in fact, but it was a hollow existence. I did not have Shaddai in my life during my younger days. I regret it now. I actually became complacent, to a certain extent, which led to my capture by King Stephen’s men while indulging myself at a port city in Wayland. It was the king himself who led me to place my faith in Shaddai.”

  Ethan and Gideon were all ears. They had never heard this story from Levi before. Perhaps this explained why Levi had been so reluctant to believe King Stephen had lost his faith. “Instead of hanging me as a pirate, King Stephen pardoned me of my crimes, adding my ship to his royal navy against Mordred. I was on a mission from the king when I came into the company of these two fine men.”

  “Supper’s ready, gentlemen!”

  “Ah, finally,” Arness said. “Now you men must have your fill of my wife’s fine cooking. You’ll not eat like this when you get to the Thornhills.”

  “That’s for sure,” Gideon added. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  They sat around a table large enough to accommodate them and enjoyed a very nice meal before accepting rooms from their host and retiring for the night. They needed a good night’s rest before heading into the Thornhill Mountains tomorrow.

  Arness gave each of the men their own room in the house. Gideon resided on the first floor while Ethan and Levi stayed on the second floor. Levi and Ethan found the accommodations very comfortable. So much that they dreaded the journey into the mountains come morning. However, several hours after everyone lay sound asleep, Gideon’s bed had not been disturbed.

  Gideon silently left the house through the window, having locked his bedroom door. He crept down across the grassy hill which backed up the property. Eventually, a small house came into view. A single candle burned in the window of the home-just the sign Gideon had hoped to see. Gideon ran down the long slope and joined the dirt road leading up to the home.

  For its size, the home was elegantly built. Obviously no expense had been spared. Gideon removed a key from his robe and fit it to the lock on the front door. It matched perfectly.

  Gideon opened the door to find the candle in the main room the only light. He closed the door behind him. There was a quick play of shadow across the wall. Arms wrapped around Gideon’s neck.
Sarah, the daughter of Arness, hugged him tightly, kissing him eagerly. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much, my love!”

  Gideon returned her affection, lifting her off the ground, swinging her around the room. “I told you I would do my best to get back before the first snow,” he laughed. She interrupted him with more kisses.

  “I’ve made your favorite,” Sarah said, giggling as they held one another. The aroma of sweet bread with cinnamon hung heavy in the air. “I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.”

  “So do I, but I must see the young man with me safely to The Order.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Sarah, I’ve found the Lord’s Deliverer.”

  “The boy?”

  “Yes. He has power like nothing I’ve ever encountered.”

  “I’m glad, my love, but must you be the one to train him? Can you not come back to me once he is delivered to the High Priest?”

  Gideon let go of her. She showed her usual disappointment. He did not blame her. “I must do what is necessary. He is the hope of our land, the only hope given by Shaddai’s prophecy for defeating Mordred and his demons.”

  “I understand, Gideon. You have a commitment to The Order, but have you forgotten your commitment to me, your wife?”

  The question stung his heart. “I have not forgotten.”

  “I long for my husband, Gideon. I long to bring our marriage out of the shadows as you promised we would.”

  “I know, and I intend to, but so much is in progress with the war going badly and finding Ethan now-our hope for freedom. I cannot jeopardize my place in The Order just yet, and you know they would never accept our marriage.”

  “I only know that I miss you,” Sarah said. All the joy of seeing him again had melted away with the knowledge she would lose him again tomorrow.

  Gideon held her. “Soon, my love. I beg you, please be patient with me. I must finish this work of training the Deliverer. When he is capable of standing on his own, then I will be ready to leave The Order as I promised.”