James Somers - The Order of Shaddai

Trying to prepare such a vessel in the dark was truly a difficult task, but to try and do it without making any noise was nearly impossible. Mordred’s soldiers patrolled the docks already. Unfurling the massive canvas sails simply required too much activity to go unnoticed.

“You there, what are you doing!” a soldier shouted from the dock.

Everyone onboard froze in place, searching for the origin of the call with dread. Two soldiers stood off the starboard side with muskets ready and swords at their sides. “You’re not authorized to leave at this time of night!”

Gideon called for a weapon, but Ethan flew into action first. He realm shifted, then shot down to the docks, appearing beside one of the soldiers. He pulled his sword and dispatched him quickly. The other whipped his musket up toward Ethan’s chest, cocking the hammer back. Ethan rotated his body around the barrel of the long rifle, as the soldier fired, then struck the man squarely with his weapon. Still, the shot had been heard all over the docks.

“Catch the wind, boys!” Bonifast shouted. The men flew into action without any further concern for noise or being seen. It was now too late for any of that now.

Soldiers filled the docks as the shot roused a few, then they in turn called the others from their revelry. Fortunately their drink had dulled their senses-they fired on the Trinity, but showed little accuracy. Ethan ran toward the other soldiers, until he heard Gideon call for him. “Ethan, don’t try it! Get onboard!”

The ship pulled away as the musket fire increased. Then an explosion erupted from the smoky haze swelling around the docks. A had cannon fired. Some of the soldiers were shooting at the Trinity from a small ship moored nearby. The cannon ball sailed over the deck punching through some of the rigging equipment.

Bonifast responded. “Port gun crew, blast everything!”

The crewmembers, operating the guns, opened fire on anything and everything on the port side as the ship moved away from the docks. After the first volley everything became quiet. No one returned fire. Pain-filled cries filtered through thick white smoke. Ethan appeared back on deck next to Gideon, looking winded, but unharmed. The Trinity pulled away, caught the wind, and disappeared through the haze of cannon smoke drifting over the harbor.

Sailors and bar patrons swarmed all over the docks, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. A cloud of white smoke hung heavy over the stonework pathways. Men, wounded or worse, lay strewn everywhere near the place where the Trinity had sat docked for months.

A lone figure walked carefully among the dead-men conscripted unto his service. The Wraith Rider stared coldly at the damage left in the wake of the Trinity’s escape. By rank, he was a captain, by birth he was an abomination. The man stood near one of his soldiers from among the heathen tribes. The injured man reached out to him, his black and red uniform soaked in his own blood from the wounds inflicted tonight.

“What happened here?” the captain said, his voice menacing.

The man shook against his own pain, trying to relay the information. “A ship, trying to escape…”

“Was the Deliverer onboard?” But the man slumped forward, his many wounds having gotten the better of him.

The captain moved on, uncaring for the human life wasted before him. “Joyner?” he demanded.

A demon appeared behind him. “Yes, Captain Vastiss?”

“Take word to our Man-O-wars patrolling the coastline-destroy the ship called Trinity. Leave no one alive.”

“It will be done,” the demon said and vanished.

Sarah tired of the long day at her parent’s laundry. She had carried many deliveries. Despite being with child, and beginning to show it, she insisted on continuing to work. Sarah had never been the sort who could laze about the house. She would have gone mad with nothing to do.

Still, the work was hard and the bags heavy, so her parents had hired one of the local boys to help her with the deliveries, an eleven-year-old named Matthew. He was strong for his age, a ruddy boy with a mop of brown curls and blue eyes. Some day, she thought, he’ll have his pick of wife.

“I’ll take that one,” Matthew said as he pulled a heavier bag of laundry out of Sarah’s hand and gave her the much lighter one.

“You don’t have to baby me, Matthew. I can manage.”

“You keep saying that, but I can’t just let a mother-to-be carry around the heavy things while I take the small stuff. What kind of man would I be then?”

Sarah admired his ethic and decided to stop arguing with the boy. He was, after all, here to help. And as the weeks pushed on, her back ached more and more with the heaviness of her child. “Well then, let’s get going. Mr. Oggle will want these linens for his customers.”

The two of them walked across the street. Sarah noticed a pillar of dark smoke rising from beyond the hills of her family’s property. “Our farm! The house must be on fire!”

“I’ll go tell your father!” Matthew started to run back toward the laundry. But the thunder of galloping horses stopped him cold. They both stared down the road coming into town. Wraith Riders poured in like a storm surge. They rode into Millertown with weapons raised high and torches set ablaze.

As they passed through, sending pedestrians running in terror, they flung their torches through the glass windows of storefronts. Anyone caught nearby was slain with the sword. Matthew pulled at Sarah, urging her to escape. She stood in shock at the sheer ferocity of the attack. Why are they here? Why now?

Neither Sarah, nor anyone else in Millertown, saw the demon flying here and there among the people, searching for the girl he had seen with the priest of Shaddai-his wife, now with child five months. As fierce as the Wraith Riders were, they did not kill any of the young women, knowing the girl was extremely valuable to Lord Mordred, their entire purpose in Millertown revolving around her safe capture.

Half of the town stood burning, forcing anyone in the buildings out into the street where the riders sifted for Mordred’s prize. The demon found her. Sarah tried her best to run ahead of the tide of marauders. Matthew pulled her along as best he could. An invisible hand seized her by a wad of her blonde hair. She jerked backward at the neck, but Matthew kept her from falling. “Matthew!” she screamed as the demon stopped her from going any further.

The Wraith Riders responded quickly once the girl was identified. Black horses surrounded Sarah and Matthew. A Wraith Rider dismounted and seized the girl-careful not to damage her unborn child-collateral for their master’s use.

Matthew battered the black rider, but a leather gauntlet backhanded him out of the way. Sarah wondered where her father was. All she could see were the stamping hooves and snorting muzzles of their dark steeds. She thought, for a moment, she heard the voices of men trying to stop the riders from taking her. A brief clash of steel ensued beyond the circle of horses, then the moans of the dying.

The rider bound Sarah’s hands with a leather cord and hoisted her up onto one of the saddles. The muscular arms of a Wraith Rider surrounded her from behind, controlling his horse with leather reins. He turned the animal quickly, then they shot away from the chaotic scene. The others followed, leaving Millertown in their wake of terror and destruction.

Matthew struggled in the dirt. The right side of his face throbbed terribly. When he rubbed it, his hand came away covered in blood from several deep gashes across his cheek. People he knew wailed in the streets for their loved ones slain in the attack. Others, wounded, moaned, rolling around in pain like salted slugs.