The ORDER of SHADDAI (The Realm Shift Trilogy #2) Read online

  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.”

  Sarah smiled. She couldn’t stay mad at him. The aroma of sweet bread lured them into the kitchen. Sarah led her husband by the hand, smiling. Gideon paused just long enough to blow out the candle.

  THORNHILL PASSAGE

  Jericho watched as Mordred went about the business he did best—destruction. The warlord was presently cleansing a town that had lent aid to King Stephen of Wayland both in conscripts to lay siege to Emmanuel and in supplies and fresh horses as he fled back to his homeland beyond the Nodian border.

  This was just like old times for him. This was the situation which best suited Mordred—riding upon horseback with his Wraith Riders, stamping out resistance to his dominion. Jericho looked on, well pleased, remembering why he had chosen this man in the first place to be his juggernaut through Emmanuel’s white walls.

  Mordred was certainly never going to be the ideal king, but he was a strong leader on the battlefield. And those days were not over. Rebellion still stirred in the hearts of Nodians and Mordred would be useful in crushing it out of them yet.

  Buildings burned, and women screamed in the muddy streets as rain slowed their escape from the Wraith Riders. Clashing swords rang through the town as men cried out with their last ounces of resistance and were silenced. Darkness swept them out of the way. Demons swarmed like buzzing bees—unseen by mortals. But one was different. This demon approached Jericho with news—information Jericho had desired to hear.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, my lord,” the demon messenger said. “A boy and two men—one of them a priest of The Order of Shaddai. The man reporting to Mordred’s patrol said his servant was attacked by the priest in Millertown.”

  “So, they are passing into the Thornhills already,” Jericho said.

  “Apparently, my lord.”

  “How far is this message from reaching Mordred’s ear?” Jericho asked.

  “Three week’s by man.”

  “Time enough to dispatch my own servant into the Thornhills,” Jericho said. “See that this message does not arrive sooner than expected. In fact, if it is convenient, the messenger should not arrive at all.”

  “As you wish.” The messenger launched into the air, shooting away into the distance.

  The weather treated them harshly as they traveled. It took a full day more than Gideon had expected before they reached the garden by the river deep in the Thornhill Mountains. Rain had beset them early on, forcing them to leave their horses back in Millertown with Arness and his family. The animals would never have made the journey through the narrow hidden pass in such weather.

  The day of their departure had been a sad one as Gideon found it always was. Sarah had retreated into the house to watch from a second story window as he and his companions walked beyond the border of her father’s farm toward the ominous mountains in the distance.

  Gideon’s heart had ached with each tear his young bride shed for his departing. But he could say nothing of the girl’s behavior to Ethan or Levi. Arness and Bella knew, of course, as well as many in the town, but they had kept a pact with the priest. They would always love him for his heroism on their behalf five years ago. Moreover, they had been consenting to the union of the young warrior and the daughter of Arness, but kept it secret for his sake and his vow to The Order of Shaddai.

  Gideon led them beyond the snow line through some of the most treacherous terrain Ethan or Levi had ever seen: huge crevasses hidden from view by canopies of leaves and grass, quicksand in places, and vast rocky expanses. Eventually they came to a small cave in the mountainside, nearly invisible due to an optical illusion in the formation. Had Gideon not known its exact location, the others never would have seen it.

  Once inside the cave, Ethan and Levi were amazed at how it opened up significantly. The priest led them through a forest of stalactites and stalagmites. The path was only discernable once you were on it. “Ouch!” Levi yelled. He had a sizeable tear in the sleeve of his coat where it had been gashed by the jagged stones surrounding them.

  “Use caution, men,” Gideon warned, “The way is still dangerous.”

  “Couldn’t they find a better place to have a temple?” Levi said as he examined his coat sleeve and the scrape on his arm.

  “The way and location were meant to keep people from visiting,” Gideon said with a smirk. “We’re not far.”

  “I hear water,” Ethan said, bringing up the rear.

  “That’s the underground river that will take us to the location of the Temple.” Gideon waited for them at the top of a short rise. “This is where we’ll enter.”

  Several small boats stood against the wall on a shelf of rock. A dark stream of water, six feet wide, ran through a tunnel. “What’s up there?” asked Ethan, pointing to the dark upper end of the tunnel.

  “The river and the Temple complex form a vast loop in the mountain,” Gideon explained. “We get on here where the river is calm. It will take us down through the mountain to the entrance to the Temple. Once we’re inside, I’ll show you how we are able to leave. But it all comes back here in the end.”

  “All of this in order to have a temple?” Ethan asked.

  “All of this to protect the Word of Shaddai and train those who carry it back out into the world,” Gideon corrected. He pulled one of the boats down from the wall along with a lantern. Using a flint stone, Gideon lit the lamp and handed it to Ethan.

  Gideon set the four-man boat into the water and bade the others to enter. Ethan handed Gideon the lantern. He placed it on a hook at the front of the boat, then got in. Levi followed while Gideon held the boat against the current with a mooring hook. He released the hook once they had situated inside, allowing the current to sweep them downstream. A corona of lantern light preceded them down the pitch-black tunnel. The boat sped up considerably with the current. The grade of the river grew steeper and the water increased its force.

  A shaft of light broke through the darkness ahead of them. “Are we almost there already?” Levi shouted.

  “Not quite,” Gideon said. “Find the set of leather straps on either side of your seats and hang on. It gets a bit wild from here.”

  Levi and Ethan found the straps. They were puzzled by Gideon’s statement, growing anxious as the light at the end of the tunnel rushed toward the little boat. The river wasn’t visible beyond.

  The boat rushed through the opening, immediately falling into rapid decline. Sheer walls of rock rose up several hundred feet on either side of the stream as far ahead as they could see. The seemed to be flowing through a fissure in the mountain.

  The men screamed uncontrollably as the stream blasted down the sixty-degree decline, carrying them at a frightening rate of speed. The rock walls on either side threatened to dash their little boat to kindling at the slightest variance in their course.

  Their hair whipped back as the wind pounded their faces. Even as fast at they were going, it still got worse. Up ahead they saw another tunnel come into view. Gideon yelled into the wind, bracing himself with the leather straps, but he was enjoying the entire ride.

  There would be no room for error when they entered the tunnel. Turning to the right or left would smash the boat into the walls for sure. Nevertheless, the little boat
maintained its precise position in the stream. Within seconds, they entered the tunnel at the far end. Darkness engulfed them immediately. Another lesser light appeared at the far end of the tunnel and they soon came out into the open again. The stream emptied into a larger basin, instantly diminishing their speed to almost nothing.

  At the far end, the water left the basin, heading off toward distant rapids where it gained its speed again. “This is where we get off,” Gideon said. He pulled a small oar from the inside wall of the hull and began to paddle. On one side of the basin, the sheer rock wall continued to dominate all the way around to the place where the water left again. On the other side, however, there was a beautiful garden of willow trees and bright-multicolored flower arrangements.

  A whistle escaped Levi’s lips as he surveyed the delicate portrait of Shaddai’s glory displayed in the garden. A slight mist hung in the air among the willows, and the sun crept through above the rock wall surrounding the garden. Gideon rowed the boat to the shore where they each got out and helped pull it up onto the bank.

  There was rare beauty found in the wild bouquets, the elegantly kept paths of stone through the green grass, the vine like hair of the weeping willows, and the natural fountains running like rivulets through it all. But the sight which held Ethan’s gaze most had been unexpected.

  Gideon placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he came up behind him. He had a feeling he might know what Ethan had found. “What is it you see?”

  “Angels,” Ethan said, mystified.

  Indeed, two angels stood watch in the garden. They nodded knowingly to Ethan.

  “I’ve had heard some say they’ve seen angels here, but I never knew for sure. I wondered, in bringing you here, if you would see them,” Gideon admitted. “The Lord is keeping the way for the priests of Shaddai. Only those whom he wishes are able to disembark here.”

  “What do you mean?” Levi asked.

  “We found an assassin on this shore just after Mordred took over the palace of Emmanuel. The man was dead of unknown causes. He only ever got one foot on this bank before being struck down. Come, we’ll leave them to their work. And we must be about ours.” Gideon led them down one of the stone paths, through the trees, and deeper into the mist away from the breeching sunlight. Levi brought up the rear, still trying to catch his own glimpse of the angels but finding none.

  ASSASSIN’S ASSIGNMENT

  In the small village of Magog, the sorcerer Kane sat by a small fire inside his home. He usually conducted his rituals here with those who came to him for spiritual advice. So long as they were willing to pay the price, Kane would prepare for them potions and charms with which they might ensnare another man’s wife or hope for a better yield on their harvest.

  Today, Kane’s client had paid an especially high price, for the desire was revenge. The villager had signed a covenant in blood in exchange for a demonic attack upon his neighbor. A heated dispute had been brewing for years, but this man had more resolve than the other did in the matter. According to custom, if a man died with no heir, as the victim would, then a neighbor could claim his land.

  Kane sat across the fire from his client. He stirred a putrid mixture of herbs and animal entrails along with some of the client’s own blood in a clay bowl. The parchment bearing the man’s commitment to the set price, his own soul and his signature agreeing to the same, sat nearby with a crimson stained quill. “Do you have what I asked you to bring?” Kane asked.

  The man reached into his cloak and produced a cloth. He unfolded it and removed a hairbrush. “Will this do?”

  Kane took the brush and separated a wad of graying hair from the bristles. “It will.”

  The sorcerer dropped the hair of the intended victim into the bowl and churned it into the mixture, reciting incantations as he did so. Among the unintelligible words, Kane added the Summoning Charm, peppering the flames with a pinch of gunpowder for effect.

  The fire erupted in a flash of light much larger than Kane had expected. He and his client jumped back from the burst of flames. The fire grew in height until it stood taller than a man. The amber flame flashed again and became a bright blue, the form of a man appearing within the fire.

  “My lord, Jericho?” Kane asked.

  “Where is my servant Mordecai?” Jericho said from the flames.

  Kane stumbled at the question. “My lord, this man requests murder for the—”

  “MORDECAI!” he bellowed.

  Kane bowed himself to the ground fearfully. “My lord, the priest took a weapon and went into the woods earlier today. I believe he meant to train, now that he is recovering well from his wounds.”

  “Very good,” Jericho said. “I have need of his special skills. See to his provisions and bear him away in the morning.”

  “My lord…this man has pledged his soul by covenant,” Kane said hesitantly.

  The face in the flame looked toward the man cowering on the ground opposite Kane. Jericho laughed at the man. “The deed is done already—he fell when your blood stained the contract,” Jericho said. “But know this also. A disease, already present in your body, will take your life within a fortnight.” The demon laughed again, and the flames resumed their normal state and color as he left Kane and his astonished client to their mischief. Meanwhile, Jericho journeyed invisible into the forest beyond Magog looking for his assassin.

  Mordecai stood blindfolded in a bamboo thicket deep within the forest near the village of Magog. Within the priestly sash at his waist hung a wooden scabbard anchored by a silver ring. Bright stripes of white paint marked ten bamboo stalks around him intermingled with unmarked chutes.

  Mordecai grasped the rather plain looking wooden hilt of his sword and separated it—an oval, silver cross guard being the only item distinguishing blade from scabbard. He whipped the blade out, tagging first one then another of the white marks on the bamboo.

  Mordecai made several elegant flourishes and severed five more stalks with white marks. He slashed at a plain chute of bamboo, but stopped the blade short of impact. With a quick backward somersault, the priest landed between the remaining three bearing white paint, severing each at their mark.

  The entire attack had been so precise and quick that the first chutes only began to fall when he had finished cutting the tenth. Mordecai replaced his blade and removed the cloth wrap he had been using as a blindfold. He dabbed the sweat from his brow and tossed the wad of cloth over his shoulder.

  Quick as a flash, Mordecai drew the blade again, stabbing it through the cloth as it fell. Two fingers caught the blade in flight, holding it there. Jericho looked out from behind the cloth hanging on the blade point. “I see you are healing nicely, Mordecai,” he said.

  “I knew it was you,” Mordecai said as he yanked the sword back from the demon’s grip, replacing it in his scabbard.

  “Even better that you could feel my presence before seeing my form,” Jericho said. “That kind of skill will prove very useful when you kill the Deliverer.”

  Mordecai lifted his shirt from the ground and began to put it on. “So, you’ve found him?”

  “He has been spotted in Millertown.”

  “Beneath the Thornhills, eh? Guess that means I was right about them going to the Temple.”

  “Apparently,” Jericho admitted.

  “What now?”

  “Now you infiltrate the Temple and rid me of God’s Deliverer.”

  “Easier said than done” Mordecai said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning there is only one way to enter the temple—at least for a priest—but no way for a demon or an assassin.”

  Jericho began to pace among the bamboo, his form sometimes passing through the stalks like a ghost, deep in thought. Mordecai watched him in his peripheral vision as he continued to dress, getting ready to walk back to the village. Jericho stopped, epiphany lighting up his face. “A diversion, perhaps?”

  Mordecai instantly took up his line of thought. “Yes, to lure the angels from their pos
ts.”

  “If they are distracted, then a lone assassin might just be able to enter the Temple. You will have at least a three-week head start before Mordred orders his patrols into the region. His messenger knows about the priest in Millertown, but they have been delayed for the time being.”

  “I’ll need longer than that,” Mordecai said. “If you want this done right, then let me do it my way. Besides, the journey from here to the Thornhill Mountains is over a month easily. I’m not so well endowed with power as your kind.”

  Jericho scowled at the priest. “I want this matter handled quickly, before the prophecy can come to pass.”

  “Like I said, I’ll need more time to get there, and this must be handled delicately. I’ve never failed you before, Jericho. I’ll have to get the boy away from the others.”

  “And you boast of your skills?” Jericho said sarcastically.

  “You’re not the one who’d be facing three hundred warrior-priests if I’m discovered,” Mordecai rebutted. “The boy must be drawn away from the others. Then, I will deal with him. You just give me what I need to get to Millertown, and I’ll call for you when I’m ready for the diversion. Leave the rest to me.”

  Jericho stood and began to dissipate. “Train well, Mordecai. I won’t accept failure in this matter. You had better be as good as you claim.”

  “Oh, I will be.”

  SERVANTS OF SHADDAI

  The path from the garden passed through a dense area of tall trees, so much that they seemed to become a wall on either side. The branches hung low overhead, criss-crossing, sewing up the area above them into a tunnel that obscured most of the sunlight. The path was a mixture of pea gravel and cobblestones, becoming pure stone as it reached the end of the tree tunnel.

  Beyond, the path fell onto a large stone terrace chiseled from the very rock of the mountainside. A network of staircases and stone terraces proceeded all the way up, down, and around a massive cylindrical gorge in the mountain. A courtyard spread out across the ground, dividing into areas of stone, grass, sand, and dirt.