The Sword of Gideon (The Realm Shift Trilogy #3) Page 8

  Ethan might have rolled his eyes at his friend, but felt the moment required a firmer stance. He had expected the King’s obstinacy to evaporate; only it didn’t.

  King Stephen looked shocked, as though Ethan had just slapped his face. “What did you say to me, boy? I’ll have your head before you demand another thing from me! And your traitorous friends will share your fate.”

  Ethan tried to calm down, to think rationally. Something wasn’t right here. Why was the King acting this way? He sensed Seth and Levi’s unease now. They were preparing to move fast if it became necessary.

  Ethan’s flesh tingled as though ants were crawling underneath his skin. And then he realized what was happening. He searched beyond what natural sight could show him. His vision shifted somewhat. Black tendrils of smoke became visible to him. They seemed to emanate from the king’s throne, as though it had been on fire briefly and then extinguished.

  He heard the voices too—many of them all whispering at once. Wicked, blasphemous thoughts full of venom were seeping into King Stephen as he stood near the silver throne. Ethan lunged instinctively for the King. He shifted from the physical to the spiritual realm—barely a visible specter when he passed through Stephen’s body with his raised sword.

  Piercing shrieks rose from the throne, multiplying in intensity as Ethan slashed down through the ornate silver chair with its regal purple upholstery. He cleaved the high back in two diagonally, with his first strike, then severed the seat and arms from the base with his next.

  Spirits, like gnashing black eels, shot away from the ruined piece of furniture. King Stephen collapsed upon the platform, a marionette whose strings had been cut. The spirits evaporated—their screeching curses the only residue remaining until all fell silent again.

  Ethan returned to his physical form as people rushed to the fallen king. “Is he still alive?” Levi asked.

  Ethan felt Stephen’s heart still beating in his chest and sighed with relief. “Yes, he only fainted, I think.”

  “I saw those serpents come out of the throne when you destroyed it,” Levi said. “What were they?”

  “I suppose they must have been some sort of demon I’ve never encountered before. They may have caused the King to act that way.” Ethan hoped he was right. This theory would answer many things and keep them from going to war with the King in his own throne room if he recovered.

  Levi stood up, assuming command. “All right, you lot,” he said, referring to the guards who stood about gaping at the madness they had just witnessed and their king still lying unconscious on the throne room floor. “Let’s get King Stephen into his bedchamber on the double.” When they dawdled around, looking at one another, Levi raised his voice even louder. “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen a demon possessed chair before? Now, get moving, or I’ll inform the King of your laziness when he wakes up!”

  This appeared to be enough incentive. Men quickly came out of the woodwork to help move the King safely into his own bed. Levi looked pleased with the turn of events and their escape from kingly wrath, until he realized no one had ever released him. “And let’s get a key on these manacles, shall we?”

  INTRUDER

  Gideon watched silently, from a patch of thick yellow grass, for two hours, as the two guards stood half asleep before the main gate, leaning precariously upon their spears. The sun had set more than two hours ago, and he felt sure that he had their routine pretty well figured out.

  Every half hour, the guards were required to call out “all’s well,” and the gatekeepers replied in kind. Gideon hoped they might follow a standard protocol, relieving these men now that nightfall had come. This meant he wouldn’t have long to act.

  With the night as his cover, Gideon eased from his patch of grass so that its rustling wouldn’t startle the men. He approached silently, remaining out of view of the guard who should have been facing him but was instead trying precariously to get his pipe lit. Gideon sprang.

  He snapped the neck of the guard nearest him; the one with his back turned, relieved the man of his spear and swung it toward the man with the pipe just as the guard raised his eyes to the disturbance. The wooden end of the spear struck him across the mouth, sending the lit tobacco flying through the darkness like scalded fireflies. The guard mumbled in pain, but with a broken jaw, he wouldn’t be crying out any alarms in the near future. Gideon stuck him across the back of the neck and he fell unconscious with several of his own teeth oozing out from between his bloody lips.

  Gideon worked fast, pulling the unconscious man out of sight into the undergrowth. The other guard he relieved of his uniform. He hid the body before assuming the man’s post with spear in hand.

  He didn’t have long to wait before a cry spread across the wall to change the guard. Gideon waited until he heard a slide in the gate and a man calling to him from the other side. “Ready to come in for the night, lads?”

  “Aye, it’s getting a bit chilly out here and I need to relieve myself, besides,” Gideon replied. The man closed the slide, where only his eyes had peered through into the darkness, and began to unfasten the mechanism holding the main gate into its locked position. He heard the clank of heavy metal, the withdrawal of counterweights, and knew he never would have forced it open. He smiled. This was too easy.

  First one guard, then another emerged from the gate as it opened slightly behind Gideon. He stood his post just inside the torchlight, waiting for these men to notice the obvious.

  “Hey, what happened to Izzy?” the first guard asked.

  “I told you, I need to relieve myself,” Gideon said. “Izzy couldn’t wait.”

  The second man wandered toward the darkness, calling for Izzy as the first replacement turned to face Gideon. When the man saw his face in the light and didn’t recognize it, he started to cry out. Gideon lashed out like a viper and hit the man in the throat with two fingers. The guard gasped weakly, once, before Gideon followed through with an elbow, covered in metal gauntlets, to the face. Down he went. Gideon caught the other man before he could turn completely around. He brought the handle of his spear down on the man’s collarbone with enough force to send the guard crashing, unconscious, to the ground.

  Within moments a call of “all’s well,” resounded across all stations upon the wall above him. Gideon paused from hiding the unconscious men’s bodies and called out to them. “All’s well!” The main gate still stood askew. He now had one half hour in order to get a few essential supplies and escape through the other side of the fortress before anyone realized the main gate had been compromised.

  Gideon squeezed inside the gate and pulled the large lever to reset the spring and lock on the main gate. A dirt courtyard opened up beyond the raised portcullis above him. Sheep bleated contentedly in a pen to his left while a horse stable, lit by lamps, stood directly across from him at the rear. Beyond that, another set of heavy doors stood, which must have left out of the fortress, following the main road into the Wayland. Before he could go, he had to get food and water. It had been too long since he’d eaten and Gideon had no idea how long it would be before he came upon a town along the way.

  The rest of the fortress seemed to be comprised of several stocky buildings, which must have housed the troops themselves and any facilities they might need. His best course of action would be to avoid any place with a buildup of soldiers. As he walked out into the courtyard, Gideon saw men on guard within towers and on the wall behind him.

  A cistern, full of rain water, stood on his way to the horse-stalls. He stopped and bent over the edge, drinking deeply. The water was cool and refreshing—not as clean as a running stream, but not bad. Other men walked through the courtyard in pairs, but no one came near him.

  Gideon decided a search for a water pouch would be too risky. If he could only find a bow, he would easily be able to hunt for any food he needed. Still, he did have a nice heavy dagger on this belt. That would be useful for hunting too, if not for making his own bow and arrows once he got out of
here.

  He wiped the excess water from his face and started toward the stalls. Several men tended to the horses in the well lit barn, but there were guards inside who appeared to be instructing the laborers on some aspect of their animal’s care. Gideon looked beyond them to the doors at the far end. By the time he incapacitated the guards and men caring for the horses, stole a horse, then opened the doors to get away, he’d have the entire place coming down on him.

  It was well known that those in the highest command positions at this fort had also been trained by The Order of Shaddai. Unfortunately the matter had turned into somewhat of a scandalous affair between Isaiah and the High Priest of Wayland’s Temple, Sandoval. The latter had considered it a matter of personal service to King Stephen, while Isaiah felt it best for The Order to remain out of each country’s political affairs. Still, if those men answered the alarm, Gideon would probably not make it out alive. He needed some way to get a horse and get out.

  Gideon spotted a servant carrying a bucket of pitch and fresh torches in a sack upon his back. At each place where a torch waned, the servant dipped the new torch into the bucket, coating it well, then lit it before setting it in place of the other. Gideon smiled. He had his diversion.

  Gideon followed the servant and came upon him as he passed through shadows upon the courtyard near one of the buildings. He took the bucket of pitch and made sure no one appeared to be looking his way. Then, in darkness, he ran toward the horse stalls and launched the bucket up and away.

  It collided with the top of the archway leading into the stalls and exploded. Pitch flew out from the arch and dripped below it onto the hay strewn upon the ground. Next, Gideon grabbed a torch from a nearby mount and sent it careening through the air. It landed near the base of the arch quickly setting the pitch aflame.

  As the fire spread, the men inside with the horses cried out and sounded a bell alarm within the barn. Men came rushing from everywhere. Gideon ran through a breach in the flames before it engulfed the entire entrance beneath the archway. He was inside the barn with the frantic men and animals.

  Guards cried out instructions beyond the flames where Gideon had come from, but for the moment they couldn’t get through. The horses grew impatient to be set free, the men and soldiers within the barn barely able to control them.

  “Loose the horses!” Gideon shouted over the din. Two of the servants looked at him, puzzled, until Gideon pointed to the back doors leading out of the fortress. “Open the rear doors, you fools, and set these poor animals free before they roast alive!”

  The men seemed to catch his meaning and ran for the doors. One even managed to get one of the soldiers to help. Soon the rear doors were swinging open to the outside world and the main road beyond. Gideon ran to the stalls and began to loose the locks on them.

  The horses, only too glad to be set free, pushed through the stall doors and dashed out of the fortress as fast as the men could free them. Gideon spotted the animal chosen to bear him to Wayland’s capital. He grabbed a saddle and quickly set to work harnessing the animal. The mare, with her patchwork brown and white coat, reminded Gideon of his former horse. He opened the stall door and led the horse out, pulling the reins to keep her from taking off without him.

  One of the soldiers turned from another animal and saw Gideon climbing onto the mare. “Hey! What are you doing?”

  Gideon lashed out with a boot and clipped the man’s head, knocking him to the ground. Gideon goaded the mare. They launched out through the doors. The soldier regained himself, standing and crying out in alarm after the one who had just stolen his horse.

  DESPERADO

  Daybreak had come nearly an hour before by the time Gideon decided it was time to stop and allow his horse some rest and both of them something to eat. He’d found a shallow brook off the main road and tied the horse so that it could graze and water itself.

  With only his borrowed dagger, from the soldier’s uniform, Gideon went in search of prey. Basing himself among the branches of a fir tree near the same stream, he soon spotted a fat rabbit coming to the water. His dagger found its mark, and soon Gideon had the rabbit skinned and roasting nicely upon a spit over a little fire.

  He stretched his sore muscles, hoping for a relaxing few hours of sleep once he’d eaten. His horse raised its head, nickering. Gideon stopped breathing, listening. The birds, active in the trees only a moment before, had gone silent.

  Gideon’s eyes flew to the tuft of grass where he had buried the remains of the rabbit in order to hide signs of his passing. The dagger stuck there in the earth where he’d left it. He scanned the trees with his eyes only. Nothing that he could see. But he still felt—Gideon leaped from his place on the opposite side of the fire, over the dagger, reaching for the pommel. The slightest movement accompanied by a hiss of air caused him to retract his arm just in time.

  A broad-tipped arrow sliced across his forearm, passing on to embed itself in the ground next to the dagger. Gideon bounced once on the balls of his feet and turned in midair as another arrow flew parallel across his chest to sink into a tree behind him.

  On the ground again, Gideon spotted two of the bowmen. One of them pulled an arrow from his quiver. The other released his bowstring, sending a wooden shaft straight for his heart. Gideon caught it and dodged the second by mere inches. These men weren’t average soldiers by any means. He compared his own uniform with what he saw them wearing and concluded that they must outrank the man he’d assaulted by the main gate of the fortress the night before.

  Most likely these were some of the officers which had been trained by The Order here in Wayland. Isaiah’s stand against the practice, several years earlier, now seemed like an especially good idea. If only he’d managed to convince the High Priest in Wayland at the time.

  Gideon spotted his horse still tied to a branch near the stream. The bowmen were too close. If he got in the saddle right now, with the horse halfway between him and his attacker, they would easily pick him off. Instead, Gideon dodged another arrow and ran away from them.

  He moved in a zigzag random pattern, ducking and weaving as he heard bowstrings release behind him. The abundance of trees provided ample cover, but then he heard the thunder of hooves and spotted two more soldiers approaching on his right flank. He was being hemmed in.

  Gideon shifted direction again—this time toward the horsemen—the exact opposite of the way any sane man would’ve have gone. Using the trees for cover, he came upon the horsemen unawares and, without breaking his sprinting stride, leaped up at the first, kicking the man from the saddle with a shot to the side of the head. The second rider pulled up short in a hurry and tried to draw his sword. But Gideon was too fast and launched himself bodily at the man. Both of them tumbled over the side of the horse. The rider landed beneath him, the fall snapping the soldier’s neck.

  Gideon leaped back into the saddle of the nearest horse, smiling as he found a bow and full quiver attached to the back of the saddle. He kicked hard into the animal and sent it galloping hard for the main road. If the two bowmen were the only soldier’s left on his tail, he could at least draw them out of their cover.

  No sooner had he come upon the main road than he saw two more riders emerge from the trees behind him on the highway. From the looks of them, his bowmen had now come out of hiding in full pursuit. With perhaps one hundred yards of distance between them, Gideon turned back on the riders and tore off towards them—all three men now in a hard gallop.

  Gideon pulled the bow to him and an arrow from the quiver jostling on the back of his speeding horse. He kept an eye on both men—one released and arrow as he nocked his first. Gideon yanked the reins as he saw the man’s fingers leave the string. The arrow sailed nearby his left shoulder.

  Gideon pulled back on the string as the horse thundered beneath him, bringing the two bowmen near at a frightening pace. His target flinched on the reins, waiting for him to release. Gideon gripped the arrow tightly at the bow and plucked the string as though he had
actually released. The horsemen reacted as Gideon had done only moments before, dodging to one side. In a heartbeat, Gideon led his target and let the arrow fly for real. It sank into the soldier’s breastplate with a thud. The man fell sideways out of his saddle as his fellow carried on.

  Gideon and the remaining soldier now had no time to fire arrows as they would come upon one another in moments. Gideon drew the sword attached to his saddle, a broad scimitar, as his opponent did the same. At the last moment, Gideon hopped up onto his saddle and somersaulted away toward the other rider. The soldier, bewilderment on his face, had no time to compensate for the attack as Gideon used the momentum to slam the scimitar down across the man’s shoulder.

  Gideon landed hard on the road, but he’d taken down all of his attackers. He took two of the horses with him and all of the weapons—food and water he could carry on the extra animal. His shoulder bothered him a bit after the fall, but he reckoned it a small price to pay for becoming better outfitted for his journey to Wayland’s capital and their king.

  COVETOUS

  Ethan, Levi and Seth waited outside the King’s bedchamber. It had been three hours since his collapse in the throne room. So far the King remained unconscious. “I just don’t understand it,” Ethan said. “Those things were definitely demonic, although I haven’t seen them before. But they were inside the throne itself and not the king.”

  Levi looked up from where he a sat on an upholstered bench near the door. “Can they possess someone that way?”

  “Perhaps oppress might be a better word for what they were doing to the King,” Seth explained. “I remember in the Word of Shaddai, of a king whom the Lord allowed to be oppressed by wicked spirits because of his disobedience to the commandments of the Lord.”