James Somers - The Order of Shaddai

Ethan looked within the creature and saw the demon possessing it-the same which had been protecting the enemy ships. That was why the sea dragon, usually never seen, had come up from the depths to attack them. The beast struck again, becoming entangled in the rigging. Gideon jumped up and grabbed some of the ropes tangled about its head. He thrashed it with his blade.

“Shoot the body!” Levi commanded. The Man-O-wars were still approaching fast. The beast held the Trinity in place as the wind fought against the sails to drive them forward.

Cannons exploded, striking the beast where it draped over onto the deck. The sea dragon lurched and screeched, pulling away from the rigging ropes. The head sped on over the other side of the deck with the long body following like a shimmering blue archway over the ship. “Gideon!” Ethan cried.

Gideon disappeared over the side, still tangled in the ropes about the dragon’s head. Ethan leaped after him into realm shift, entering the spiritual plane to follow. Gideon tried to free himself, gouging the beast with his sword, giving it all of the effort he could muster.

The beast shot up toward the surface again, breeching with Ethan hot on its trail. He reached the head and saw the ethereal form of the demon within riding along like a passenger in a coach. Ethan’s blade leapt to his hand and he slashed into the dragon’s head-more at the demon than the animal. He had a plan.

The demon had to be struck three times to dislodge him from the dragon. The spirit writhed and then evaporated away as he’d seen happen to their kind before, during the attack on the slaver ship. Gideon thrashed, trying to catch his breath and his bearings before the serpent dove beneath the waves again. Everything happened so quickly.

Ethan leaped at the head, attempting to enter the dragon as the demon had, but he was repelled. For whatever reason, he could not possess the creature as a purely spiritual being could. Instead, he straddled the neck behind the head. His sword became liquid mercury, forming a silver chain in his hand.

Ethan wasn’t sure exactly how he accomplished it, but he didn’t care so long as he saved his friend. He had seen the demons using various weapons in combat and he wondered if they weren’t all the same weapon with this ability to change. Ethan whipped the chain over the serpentine head, then jerked it firm like a bit into the dragon’s mouth. He now held a crude bridle on the beast, hoping to force his will on the creature.

The serpent struggled against him, trying to free itself, but Ethan exerted all of his strength. He muttered a prayer for divine help and forced the dragon to submit. Willing it forward, Ethan dug into the scaly flesh and the sea dragon surged away toward the enemy ships. The Man-o-wars were almost upon the Trinity and preparing to resume their attack.

Ethan, the dragon, and a bewildered Gideon all plunged down beneath the surface of the sea. Ethan hoped Gideon could hold his breath for a few moments more as he sent the creature on the attack. The priest had little choice but to hang on for dear life.

The dragon veered to the port side of both Man-O-wars and then surged upward. The breech was so powerful that three quarters of the serpent’s thick, muscular body left the water and hung suspended over both ships. Ethan waited for just the right moment.

It all happened slightly slower than the time it took a man to blink his eyes. Ethan pulled the chain away. It became liquid then sword again. He sliced away the rope binding Gideon to the sea monster, grabbed him bodily, and leaped away.

The hulking mass of serpentine muscle struggled only a moment against gravity and then it all came crashing back toward the sea. Caught in between were both Man-O-war battleships. Wooden masts splintered and toppled. Deck planks burst asunder from the impact of the sea dragon’s bulk. Both warships buckled and stopped dead in the water.

Ethan returned to the physical world, still holding onto Gideon. But their tumbling bodies produced too much centrifugal force and he lost his grip. Both priests of Shaddai splashed into the sea.

Ethan felt drained, much like his experience after sinking the slaver ship and the demon battle that had taken place onboard. He barely managed to struggle against the water and keep his head above the surface. Ethan moaned. Exhausted, he slipped beneath the rolling waves of the sea.

A hand seized him-Gideon’s. He called to Ethan, but his words grew faint and distant. Unconsciousness swallowed up his final reserves of strength. And when he knew that his friend held him secure, bobbing on the surface of the Azure Sea, Ethan surrendered to it.

Sarah slumped sideways, lying exhausted against the powerful leather clad arm of her captor. They had been riding for more than a day non-stop. Somehow the horses pushed on without water or food. Perhaps, she thought, their horses are as abominable as they are.

There were twelve Wraith Riders in their group-the same who had come to Millertown and burned it. Sarah had gone through bouts of crying during the long journey south. She had no idea if her parents had survived their brief attack.

Why had they not killed her already? What were they waiting for? Perhaps Mordred simply desired to perform the deed himself. Maybe he hoped to wring information about Gideon and the Deliverer from her before she died. She resolved to tell him nothing-a resolution Sarah hoped she had the courage to keep when faced with the warlord face to face.

Several columns of black smoke rose above the tree line ahead. The twelve riders in black leather armor turned from the road, riding in that same direction. Sarah thought of escape, but she had no chance of getting away. Even if she had not been heavy with child, she could never have hoped to outrun the riders.

When the riders breeched the line of trees, Sarah saw the village beyond. It had been occupied by several hundred people. Now the only living beings moving in it rode upon black horses. She immediately thought of Millertown although the heinous act committed here was far worse.

Images of people running in terror, then cut down like wheat, flashed through her mind. The lodges still burned while the smaller homes had been reduced to smoldering piles of waste already. The sparse countryside, with its few trees and yellow straw grass, was littered with the inhabitants of the village.

Mordred’s Wraith Riders had spared no one. The only weapons the villagers had possessed with which to defend themselves were farming implements. It was a total waste of life without reason. Sarah’s eyes strained to produce tears once again, but she was all dried up.

Some of the riders in the village took notice of them as they approached and one in particular. A particularly large man, on his horse, trotted toward them. His black and red, leather armor gleamed with gold trim. And what appeared to be batwings stretched upward into points upon his black facemask like ears. Drawing near, he held a long double-edged sword. The metal was thick and grossly stained with dried blood. He replaced it into his sheath, then came to a halt before the twelve riders and their prisoner.

Sarah supposed this man, sitting on the large black horse before her, had to be Mordred. His gaze fell upon her like a weight and Sarah felt she could not hold it without fear overwhelming her. After a moment, he reached up with a gloved hand and removed the hard-shell, black mask.

Sarah had never actually laid eyes on the Lord of the Wraith Riders. She was surprised to find him so handsome. Raven hair fell around the man’s broad shoulders as he shook free of the helmet. His sinister gaze penetrated to her very soul. He held a subtle seductiveness, as deadly as a python charming its prey before the inevitable strike.