James Somers - The Order of Shaddai

“What sort of images?”

“Explosions, fire, and a man in black, but I could not discern the identity,” Isaiah said.

Gideon thought about it, but had no idea what any of it could mean. Isaiah had the gift of foresight. Often Shaddai showed him events that were going to happen. But usually the Almighty gave him discernment of the visions. The lack of understanding seemed to shake his mentor to the core.

Isaiah leveled his gaze on his brightest pupil. “I know you want to take the boy and carry the Word to Macedon.”

“Of course…I want to serve any way I can, Isaiah. The boy is ready for this and I truly feel he needs it.”

Isaiah smiled at his friend. “Gideon you are the finest priest I have ever trained and a trusted friend, but I do not share your optimism about sending the boy to this task. Something is waiting, even wanting us to make a move-the wrong move. And I’m mystified as to the correct path. I don’t want to send the boy out before the time.”

“Isaiah, the decision is yours, but please pray about it further before you decide. After all, if it is the will of Shaddai for this boy to destroy Mordred then how can we undo it?”

Isaiah placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. It seemed like a weight lifted with his words. “Your wisdom is a gift from the Almighty, Gideon. Of course, you’re right. No one can undo the will of Shaddai.” The High priest settled into his chair. “I watched you test him on the archery field. I’ve never seen a student progress so quickly.”

“Ethan is like a sponge soaking up everything I can throw at him,” Gideon reported. “I’m trying to push him to his limits, as you did me, but I don’t know if I can find his limits. That’s one of the reasons I believe we should not contain him here any longer than we must.”

Isaiah poured them both a cup of tea and handed one to Gideon. “Allow me to meditate and pray about it this evening. Hopefully the Lord will give us an answer by tomorrow.”

Mordecai waited nearly a quarter mile away from the lip of the chasm. Jericho had been very specific with his instructions-that he not venture any closer else he would risk being seen by the angels guarding the Temple. The evening grew dim as the sun descended toward the west and the clouds hanging around the mountain captured the light, casting a reddish-pink hue over the entire landscape around him.

“It is time,” a menacing voice said from behind.

Mordecai turned to find Jericho there perched on a short outcropping of bare rock.

“I’m ready,” Mordecai said. He was dressed completely in snug-fitting, black clothing along with a hood, which tied around his face so that only the bridge of his nose and his eyes were visible.

“The attack is beginning,” Jericho said. He stood upon the rock looking up into the air. “You must be quick to the chasm and use the cover of the terrain as best as you can.”

The last glimpses of red sunlight began to fade as a shroud of darkness fell across the land. Jericho pulled a massive blade from a scabbard on his back and held it aloft. The final rays glinted upon its surface casting it blood red. “It has been so long since I have engaged my former brothers in battle!”

Mordecai watched as the demon smiled and howled a war cry, leaping into the air. Massive wings, with soiled feathers, burst from his back as he took flight. The demon shot away, becoming invisible to Mordecai either by will or sheer speed. “Go now, Mordecai!” he called back.

The assassin launched out of his hiding place among the rock and bolted through the trees covering the face of the mountain. He heard multiplied peels of thunder cross the sky, yet no rain. He imagined the fierce battle taking place in the atmosphere above while he ran for the edge of the chasm. This way would take him down into the heart of Shaddai’s Temple.

Mordecai finally reached the edge of the cliff. The massive chasm opened up before him like the maw of some giant monster. It looked as though it might be able to swallow an entire city. Faint lantern light shone to him from various places far below. Despite Jericho’s affirmations, Mordecai was surprised to get this far without encountering the Temple’s heavenly defense. The diversion, apparently, was working.

Mordecai removed the layered loop of rope from his shoulder and placed the grappling hook firmly in place on the rock. He wrapped the rope under his rear and took the other end in his hand. Mordecai backed off the ledge, beginning a quick, controlled descent into the mouth of the chasm.

It would be close, but this longest length of rope, taken from the General Goods Store in Millertown, would be just long enough to reach the highest level of the Temple’s many levels. The thunder continued unabated for another five minutes, until Mordecai had almost reached his destination.

When Mordecai came, literally, to the end of his rope, he stood still on the face of the cliff wall, watching a sentry patrol the stone walkway of the highest level with a lantern in hand. Each of the levels held a walkway running like a horizontal vein through the rock nearly three quarters of the way around the wall of the cylindrical chasm. Each walkway acted as a hub joining living quarters for the priests and other rooms and tunnels to the whole. From there, a series of terraces and stairs interconnected the twenty levels and the massive training courtyard below.

Mordecai hugged the wall with his body as the sentry reached the end of the walkway, searched out over the railing into the darkness of the chasm, then turned to go back the way he had come. Mordecai saw by the color of the young priest’s robes: that he was still a novice learning under a mentor.

Mordecai spotted his opportunity and thrust his body away from the wall. He sailed in a wide arc-a pendulum upon a rope-bringing him precisely to the place where the priest was walking. Mordecai released the rope, and his momentum carried him over the carved stone rail and into the young sentry.

Mordecai delivered a single deadly blow, while in flight, with enough force to break the man’s neck. The young priest never even saw the assassin coming. Now all Mordecai needed to do was get down to the first level where all of the priests-in-training lived. There he would find the boy and finish the job he should have completed in Grandee.

Isaiah tossed and turned upon his bed. Sweat drenched his body beneath his blankets as a nightmare unfolded itself while he slept. He sensed urgency in this dream not present before in earlier dreams and the images pulled him in.

Isaiah viewed the Temple from above, saw angels in white apparel and golden breastplates guarding The Order of Shaddai. Demons of all sorts descended en masse against their heavenly defense. The angels rose to the fight and a battle of epic proportions shook the very heavens as blades and war hammers, battle-axes and whips, fist and claw clashed above the citadel of Shaddai’s priestly servants.

The vision warped to a man in black lurking in shadow, then to Gideon running across the courtyard stones as black pitch rose around his feet, steadily hindering his progress until he struggled to keep his head above the thick darkness. He saw young Ethan, then the man in black sprang from the shadows to attack the boy.

The High Priest burst out of the dream as suddenly as he had been dragged into the nightmare. He was awake, sitting upright in bed, heaving every breath in and out of his tight chest. His senses screamed to him that this vision was not merely part of the future. The danger was now!

Mordecai laughed at how easy they had made this assassination for him. There on the door was the boy’s name: Ethan. He knew the layout of these rooms as well as anyone. His own room, when he had been a trainee, stood just three doors down from this one.