James Somers - The Sword of Gideon

When they had gotten their gear together and started off, wondering what in the world they should do for Gideon, Levi stood still. Ethan turned back. "It's time to go, Levi."

Bonifast did not reply. He stood staring over smoldering embers at Dung's body. "I should have been kinder to him, don't you think?"

Ethan looked at Seth, then back at Levi. "There's nothing that can be done for him now. We have to go. We have no choice but to go to The Order and speak with Isaiah. He'll know what we should do for Gideon."

"We can't just leave him like this…not after all he did for us, Ethan."

Seth spoke up. "Captain, I'm afraid we don't have any way to bury the poor creature. I feel as bad as-"

Levi straightened. "A pyre then…we can do that much." He began to walk toward the edge of the woods in search of firewood.

Ethan tried to plead with him, but the Captain would not hear of it. "I'll not leave him to the buzzards!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air.

Ethan turned back to Seth. "You wait here and I'll help him."

Seth smiled, nodding. "I didn't know he had such a soft spot for the beast."

Ethan smiled. "Neither did I."

Gideon took a drink from a water-bladder as the noon sun beat down upon him. Grimwald had driven his men unrelenting toward the Thornhill Mountains for just over a week. Halfway through the journey, two of his soldiers had fainted and fallen behind. Grimwald had flogged the first to death with a bullwhip. The second, he had slain with a sword in order to save time. None of the other men had dared to fall behind for the remainder of the journey.

Gideon knew Millertown waited for them several miles in the distance. He wondered if he would have to face Sarah's parents dressed in this vile crimson armor. The thought of his old friends watching him ride through the town with Grimwald and his soldiers made him feel nauseated. Still, he had no choice.

Grimwald rode up next to Gideon's horse with a smile on face. "Soon we will be at your Temple, priest. I'm sure they're going to love you in your new uniform."

Gideon tried to ignore him. Those same thoughts had paraded through his mind during their entire march toward the Thornhills.

"I can see you're looking forward to it almost as much as I am. And yet we must delay until tomorrow," Grimwald said.

"Why? What are we doing for the rest of the day?"

"Preparing." The General closed his eyes as though enraptured. "You'll witness something tonight you've never seen before, priest."

For the remainder of the day, the soldiers worked like bees doing their master's will. They were only too happy to comply with his demands today. He had ordered all of the cattle, which had been marched behind them, to be slaughtered. A great feast would be prepared.

By evening, the soldiers were roasting great hunks of beef upon a hundred huge fires. Gideon watched, fascinated by what was taking place. It made no sense to him at all. What did Grimwald have planned?

By nightfall, the entire camp had grown loud in their revelry. The soldiers acted like they had gone on holiday. Gideon watched Grimwald. He had not joined in the festivities. The General simply watched. He seemed to be waiting.

Then something changed in the camp. First one, then another and another of the soldiers doubled over in pain. They moaned loudly. The laughing ceased. More of the men buckled to their knees as though under an unseen attack. The first began to scream, thrashing upon the ground like a madman.

Gideon looked at Grimwald, now standing next to one of the pyres. He smiled as he watched a wave of mass hysteria transform his camp. He and Gideon, alone, remained unaffected.

The men writhed on the ground, howling unnaturally. Gideon walked through the melee of agonized bodies toward General Grimwald. "What's going on, General?"

Grimwald smiled sadistically. "Exactly what I told you would. The demons are entering them. All of these men underwent a ritual of binding before marching on this campaign. They have taken oaths, and today they will fulfill them."

Gideon watched the soldiers: some of them begged for mercy. Whatever process they were undergoing, they didn't seem at all happy about it.

"This is how my men will enter the Temple of Shaddai. This is how the demons will be able to pass through-bound to Mordred's soldiers," Grimwald explained.

"I've seen possessed soldiers before, Grimwald-and I've beaten plenty."

Grimwald grinned as though instructing a foolish child reluctant to learn their lessons. "You've not seen this before. They are not merely possessed. These men are now joined completely. The spirits may not come and go as they please. These men are becoming part demon-something new."

As Grimwald spoke, Gideon noticed the reason for the pain these men were experiencing. It wasn't simply the invasion of a spirit, but the transformation of their physical bodies which drew their howling lament.

Hands grew larger-the bones creaking and popping. Some of the men began to puff up, as though muscles were ballooning all over their bodies. Eyes changed to bloodshot red with yellow rimmed irises. Some grew taller, others hunched over. Fangs protruded over lips and nails grew rigid and sharp.

Gideon realized his mistake. He'd supposed the priests of Shaddai would be fighting back against things he'd already conquered. But these creatures were no longer human. When he led Grimwald's forces through the secret Temple entrance it would not be an army of men, but abominations.

Several hours had passed in Grimwald's camp as demon and man fused into new, hideous mutations. Grimwald went throughout his ranks examining the painful process, delighted with his progress. Gideon watched the scene from a distance, horrified. The abominations of Mordred had now grown to new heights. Men, taken over and fused with hellish spirits, now roamed the encampment with cruel, leering smiles for Gideon.

Gideon thought that, were it not for Mordred's wrath, they might have torn him limb from limb and gleefully feasted upon his innards. After facing the possessed man onboard Rommil's ship, returning from Macedon, he knew what sort of power these men wielded. Only these appeared even fiercer, if that were possible.

General Grimwald walked toward Gideon. "What do you think, priest? Shall I unleash them on Millertown? It's only a few miles over those hills, before we come to the base of the Thornhills."

Gideon tried not to think of the carnage that would surely issue through Millertown until everyone within had been killed. The townspeople wouldn't stand a chance. And Sarah's parents still lived there among many of his other friends.

Gideon feigned interest. "Go ahead, Grimwald, I'm sure such a diversion would do much for alerting the Temple of our imminent arrival."

Grimwald's smile dropped. He obviously hadn't considered that possibility. He smiled again after a moment. "Very good, Gideon…very good. But we may need to come back through Millertown, just the same, on our way back to Emmanuel, once the Temple has been destroyed."

Gideon didn't rise to the bait, but only kept his gaze cool and leveled upon Grimwald. He hunched his shoulders in apathy for good measure.

Grimwald called out for his second in command. "Dervins!" A terrifying version of the man sauntered over, complete with yellow eyes like a frog and a mane of thick black fur trailing down from his head. The man's uniform had nearly split apart from the new bulk of muscle formed during the hideous transformation. A set of four boney prongs jutted out of his forehead, crowning the mutation.

He spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. "Yes, sir?"

Grimwald almost seemed taken aback by the man, now clearly superior in size and strength to himself. A smear of cow's blood still dripped down Dervins' uniform.