<< Back to Ch. 38 --- Continue to Ch. 40 >>
39: The Game-master
It had been almost a week since they'd leveled Deun's third outpost and the air in the camp was getting thicker and thicker with both anxiety and anticipation. Rapha'owr was now a mere day's journey ahead for the ever-growing rebel army. Spirits – and hopes – were high even as midday came upon the battlefield.
The air was hot and humid, making every exertion all the more difficult. Every breath came harder to many of the men and women who were not so accustomed to the elevated levels of water in the air. Here, down in the grasslands and flatter regions it was becoming harder and harder to push through Deun's forces.
Enemy troops were beginning to converge on their position. Masterson looked everywhere, trying to find Desslok amidst the growing melee. He fought his way through a knot of zealots, making it miraculously unscathed, but smelling heavily of sweat and blood.
There was smoke billowing all around them from destroyed machines – both theirs and the enemy's. He whirled around, looking in every direction, trying desperately to find his Leader.
"Adonai, let me not have lost him; not now after everything that's happened..." he prayed as he ran through the war zone, weapon and energy shield both at the ready.
Suddenly he saw a flash of red hair.
"Thank you!" he shot a quick prayer of thanks toward Heaven and changed course quickly.
"Sir!" Talan shouted over the roar of the battle.
"Talan! Get out of here!" Desslok shouted to Masterson over the chaos of bombshells exploding all around the group of soldiers.
"Sir, if anyone is leaving, it's you. You're too important to the rebels for us to let you die." Masterson shouted back, concern written all over his face.
The next instant, a round from one of Deun's forces caught Desslok in the shoulder, sending him to his knees. Despite the awkward position, immediately, the prince whipped around and downed the offender with a single shot. The man – or was it a robot? It was becoming increasingly hard to tell – fell to the ground, a smoking hole sizzling right between his eyes.
Talan sprinted across the open space that separated him from his friend. "Sire, your shield!" he indicated the small device affixed to the palm of Desslok's gloved hand.
"Burned out." Desslok hissed back, "The chazirim* have been targetting me as often as possible. The energy field finally collapsed a few minutes ago." he winced as he moved his shoulder to get a better look around. "They're closing in! Leave now!" Desslok insisted.
"No, Sire." Came the determined reply. "If I go, you 're coming with me." Masterson eyed the freshly cauterized wound on his ruler's shoulder. "That needs to be looked at."
"Talan, forget about me for one moment."
Now that Masterson was within a few feet of Desslok he could see the dangerous light in the rightful Leader's eyes.
"Forgive me, Sire, but I cannot do that."
Another explosion rocked the ground, much too close for comfort and Masterson activated his own shield, spreading it around both himself and the crown-prince. Debris rained onto the energy barrier and tumbled off harmlessly. Then Desslok saw the very same look of firm determination in Talan's eyes that he knew was in his own.
"Very well." Desslok said. "Give Frakken and Lysis the signal to pull back, and tell Krenshaw to get ready."
"Yes, Sire." Talan gave Desslok a short nod before taking the prince's burned out shield and replacing it with his own. Before Desslok could stop him, Masterson flew back across the pitted battlefield, running with the wings of the malakim shl Adonai*, the prayers of his brethren in the Faith, and the hand of Adonai surrounding him.
Desslok stared after Masterson for half a second, then, without another thought, charged back into the fray, taking down every enemy he could before Talan spread the word about the commencement of the next phase of their attack.
The soldiers did as they were ordered and began to pull back, pretending to regroup and drawing the enemy into the precise area that Desslok and his band wanted them. This show of feigned weakness was just the right lure for the enemy. They fed on the weak and fearful.
Finally everything was ready for the last piece of the rebel offensive and the prince had returned from the middle of enemy territory to direct the strike, his shoulder looking little better – but no worse – to Masterson's now-trained eye. What medical knowledge he'd learned in the field had served him well these past few years and he was increasingly thankful for it every day.
Once everyone was in place, it began.
"Do it." Desslok ordered from his position, standing behind Garen Krenshaw atop a low, forested hill.
Garen nodded and set off his ingeniously cobbled-together machine. For a moment, nothing happened. Every eye was fixed on the enemy army, now swarming towards them like a pack of wolves on the trail of a wounded animal. Then, suddenly, half of the zealot troops simply fell to the ground, lifeless.
Shouts of triumph and relief could be heard spreading through the whole rebel army.
"Well done, Krenshaw We've downed the robotic element of their forces. Now all we have left to contend with is flesh and blood." Desslok looked out over the rest of the enemy and caught the glint of sunlight off of a shêd-wielder's amulet and said in a lower, more threatening tone, "And dark spirits." the prince nodded to Garen in respect, then ordered the final charge back into the remaining zealot forces.
"Talan!" Desslok shouted to the other man.
Masterson appeared by his side, "Sir?"
"Summon the tanninim. It's time they showed their scales in this fight."
"Yes, Sir." Masterson left to signal the last segment of their army. Within a few minutes, the rakabim, who had been waiting not far from the main army's position, sailed over the tops of the trees and dove into the enemy mass, wreaking havoc. The tanninim roared and spewed flame after flame of fire through the thick air, burning everything in their wake.
Within the hour there was not one zealot left to speak of. The entire enemy horde had been utterly wiped out. The charred remains of hundreds of bodies littered the area, which would soon stink of the dead, a smell that would only worsen as the nearby tsarebetim spread and engulfed the lifeless corpses. The prince ordered the army to move a healthy distance away from the site of the slaughter, to the zealot encampment, now deserted and free for the raiding.
While his troops picked the enemy camp clean, Desslok stayed behind, compelled to remain at the scene of such widespread death.
He looked silently over the quiet, gruesome sight. The only sound was the wind as it brushed past him, spreading the scent of blood and death. As he stood, surrounded by the silence he felt something wet drop onto his right hand. He looked up into the sky, now gray with clouds and saw the first drops of rain descending. They pelted his face, but he didn't care. The discomfort helped to jar him out of the strange stupor that had come over him during the massacre he had just overseen.
Instead of staying where he was, he began to walk slowly through the carnage, looking at the faces of each and every man and woman whose life he'd ordered be taken. Seven or eight years ago it would have haunted him. Today...? Today they were casualties of war – a war that, if it was not won soon would cost millions of more lives. "To take the lives of zealots in the name of peace..." he thought as he continued his morbid journey, "That, I can live with if it means an end to this monstrosity..."
He heard footsteps behind him and whipped out his weapon, turning to point it at whoever or whatever was following him.
A somber Masterson stood stock still, a look of sadness in his eyes that Desslok had never seen before. "Talan." the prince said, lowering his weapon, "I thought you had gone on with the rest."
"No, Sir." Masterson shook his head, then looked at the bodies that littered the ground around them. "Abaddon rejoices this day, I fear."
Desslok looked around again, the smell that had before been staunched by his exposure to it, now returning in full force. "It was a... necessary strike, Talan." some of the remorse of the past began to trickle back into his heart.
"I agree." Masterson nodded solemnly, "But it does not make their deaths any less tragic."
The prince slowly nodded, "This is true," he paused, "But now we must move on. The day is won, but the war itself has yet to be determined."
"The truth of your words, my friend, is deeper than you know." Masterson thought as he saw something in Desslok's face that shot a sliver of fear into his gut where it remained lodged. "Let us go then." he said.
The rain, formerly a gentle drizzle, now began to thicken and fall in heavy waves, drenching both men from head to toe. They stood facing each other for a long time, as though Masterson's words had disappeared from the universe as soon as he had said them.
Suddenly, a look of terror whisked across the prince's face so quickly that Masterson wasn't even sure he had seen it. An instant later, the fear was gone, replaced with a hard look.
Finally, Desslok said slowly, "Yes, let us leave this place. There is... something..." he looked to his left and then to his right, as though he were trying to find something that Masterson could not see.
"Sire?" something dark and hideous began to creep along the ground near one of the piles of dead bodies. Masterson could feel the evil radiating from it and it suddenly dawned on him that they were in more danger now than they had been during the entire hand-to-hand exchange that had just ended.
The hair on the back of his neck shot up, just as it had all those years ago when that shêd-wielder had broken into the prince's quarters and tried to kill him.* But this time, there was no corporeal form to contend with, only a very real spiritual threat whose presence was more troubling than Masterson wanted to admit.
Talan turned to face the atrocity, placing himself between the prince and the darkness. There was silence as the thing moved closer, it's form invisible, but its presence almost tangible. Both men, the blood-bought and the un-redeemed alike, stood frozen, awaiting the thing's approach.
When it was within thirty feet of them, Masterson spoke, "What have you to do with us, shêd?"
An awful, twisted voice replied in a guttural tone, "I have – business with – the descendant of the – Malha," its phrases were punctuated by rattling breaths.
"The only business you have here is to rejoice over the souls your master has reaped today." Masterson replied, an edge in his voice that masked the deep sorrow that washed over him again at the thought of the host of deaths that had come to pass this day.
The shêd laughed, its cackles sounding more like the grating of two rough metal beams than a sign of mirth, "You are so – very ignorant, little man." he rasped, then addressed Desslok, "Descendant of the – Malha, I would speak with you – without the interference – of this interloper."
"Sire, do not speak to it." Masterson hastily said, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when Desslok held his peace. Then Talan addressed the shêd, "Interloper I may be, but I am one whose Master is the Sovereign. It is He whom I represent, servant of darkness."
Masterson sensed the evil pressing in on them, coming closer and closer, it's icy coldness bearing down on him, oppressing his spirit. Just when he thought he could bear the weight no more, Talan said with power, "In the name of Yahweh and Mashiach, Yeshua, speak your name to me and then leave this place. We will have no more to do with you!"
The spirit shrieked, then bellowed in pain and rage as it was forced to utter its name by an unseen power far greater than its own, "Sheqer*!" it rasped, "I am – Sheqer!" Then, it disappeared, leaving the mass grave covered in a chilled silence.
Celestella and Mirenel collectively screamed as the trauma from the encounter slammed through them both at the same instant and their link with the shêd was severed in one excruciating moment.
The pain lasted for a long time, so long that Celestella thought it would never ebb, but finally it did and she was able to help her sister stagger out of her shell and sit down on the floor.
"He is... powerful." Celestella hissed, "Even more so than we first thought," she cursed loudly, "The Malha said he would be our most difficult obstacle."
"Yes, yes I can see why now." Mirenel breathed, "But he would never leave Desslok willingly, and the Enemy protects him. How are we to be rid of him?"
Celestella thought for a long time, letting her chin fall almost to her chest. She shut her eyes tightly, thinking through every lesson the Malha had ever instilled in her through these past years. Then, selecting the one option she had left, she opened her eyes again and looked at Mirenel, "Then perhaps our little shêd-slayer will have to be dealt with some other way..."
Mirenel nodded, "Yes... Then our work lies before us, sister. Let us begin."
Desslok and Masterson caught up to the rebel army and weren't surprised to find this final enemy base stripped of all valuables and blown to bits.
The two men walked into camp in silence; the prince donned the mask of triumphant Leader as he made his way to the one place he knew he could have some measure of peace for a little while – the tent the army had set up for meetings. Few of the soldiers ever went there when there wasn't some announcement to be made to them all at once. Now, in the downpour, it was even less likely that anyone would venture out to the temporary structure..
Masterson, on the other hand, could not veil his troubled state as he followed the prince and he was thankful that they met only a handful of people on their way through the camp.
Once they made it into the tent, the prince's guise of alacrity was violently thrown aside and his face clouded with worry and dread. "Talan..." he said under his breath before suddenly falling to his knees in the dirt and bowing his head to hide the compounding fear that threatened to show on his face, "It haunts me... the darkness follows me, no matter where I go, or where I turn, it is always there, one step behind me, threatening to engulf my very soul..."
Masterson slowly sank to the ground, the knees of his dark pants turning brown from the dirt he now knelt in. "I knew there was something... something hanging above us these past many days, but it never made itself known to me before..." he breathed deeply, "With every outpost we've taken, that shêd has become more bold. I've sensed its presence growing."
"Yes... it is as you've said..." the prince admitted, still looking at the ground. "And if it continues, then... what will happen when we finally confront my brother? What darkness will be unleashed upon us and our world if we overthrow the zealots' chosen ruler?" Desslok finally looked up at Masterson, a look of uncharacteristic terror on his face – the same look that Masterson had seen just before the shêd's appearance in the valley of death from which they'd just returned.
This question weighed heavily on Masterson's heart for a long time, and he gave no answer, that is, until a small burst of brightness began to shine through the shroud of black fear that now tried to smother them. It was not something that Masterson could make sense of, rather, it was simply a sense of knowing – the same sense he had possessed his whole life that Adonai would do as He willed, no matter what the forces of evil had was His promise. The sense grew into a deep conviction and took root in Masterson's heart, growing up into a blossoming tree of hope. Then, finally he replied with a fervor that surprised even him, "No darkness can overcome what Adonai's Light has kindled."
"You speak with conviction, Talan." the prince replied, looking just a bit less fearful than he had mere moments before.
"Yes, Sir." he replied, "The Light of Adonai Himself resides within my soul; the darkness that Abaddon sends can never touch it, for it is Adonai's." he took a deep breath, praying that his next words would not fall on deaf ears, "It could be the same for you, my friend; Adonai is not slack concerning his promises. He has atoned for the transgressions of every person who has ever occupied space and time. Only He can take your darkness and make it light."
A tense silence settled in the air and Masterson prayed with his entire being that the prince would finally hear the message of redemption that Mashiach offered to all. "Please, Adonai, may he see... Please..."
"I..." the prince began, then said the one word that broke Talan's heart yet again, "cannot..."
"But Sire –"
"Enough, Masterson!" the prince suddenly bellowed, leaping to his feet, his fear now transformed into rage as his face twisted into an angry sneer, "You may find value in that Faith of yours, but I cannot." he looked away, "Now... I thank you for your words of encouragement," he let out a long breath, "but your Adonai will have to do better than He has thus far to convince me that I am in need of His, 'help.'"
Masterson said nothing as he stood, bowed to his Leader and left the meeting tent, the tears of grief he shed, masked by the rain that still pelted down in heavy, mournful sheets, as even the sky seemed to sob in sadness for the would-be king of the Gamilon people.
Twilight came and the rain lessened to a heavy drizzle. Desslok left the meeting tent to walk a short distance from the former zealot outpost.
Soon he came to a sheer cliff, one that hadn't been there eight years ago, but because of the tsarebetim, the land he now surveyed had sunk down well over a thousand feet into the crust of the planet.
He looked out over the land, holding up a hand to shade his eyes from the sunlight. Then he saw what he was looking for.
The glint of metal reflected in the sunlight, and even through the rain he could see the stately form of the palace jutting up from the heart of Rapha'owr, still a ways off, but close enough to glimpse with the naked eye. After a long moment of gazing on the sight, he left the scene and hastily returned to the camp.
Once there he called every member of the rebel forces to the meeting tent and made one final announcement to them all.
"We leave for Rapha'owr in an hour."
His words were met with murmurs, but the whispering was soon silenced as he continued, "Under the cover of darkness we will all assemble at the palace and launch our final offensive against the Usurper." he looked out over the crowd before continuing, "From this point on, we will travel in small groups. Three or four at the most – but preferably two." he scanned the crowd, still looking for the one face he hadn't yet seen among the gathered, "Shalom aleichem to you all." he finally said, as he met Masterson Talan's sad gaze. "May we all meet again within the gates of our long-occupied capitol."
And with that, the rebel army scattered and began the hasty task of packing for their imminent departure.
* chazirim - pigs
* malakhim shl Adonai – angels of Adonai
* Shêd-wielder's attempt on Desslok's life – a reference to the first book, The Guardiana
* Sheqer – Deception/Deceit