James Somers - The Order of Shaddai

“Clouds covering the mountains,” said Gideon. “And they always cover this place. Come on, let’s go down to the courtyard and let you see where you’ll soon begin training as a priest of Shaddai.”

Ethan smiled, falling in behind Gideon as they walked across the terrace to the stairs leading down. Another stairway ascended, following the rock wall, leveling out in different places where people entered and exited through carved stone archways, promising untold mysteries beyond.

They descended three levels to get to the very bottom and the courtyard beyond. Ethan sensed every eye upon them, though no one was obvious about it. When Gideon led them onto the first practice field, where ten priests were sword fighting, the first of many people came to welcome them. Rather, they welcomed Gideon, and he introduced the priests to his friends.

Everyone appeared friendly and not the least bit threatened by the presence of outsiders. Ethan supposed there was no reason they should be. After all, the warrior-priests of Shaddai were some of the most dangerous men in the world, and everyone knew it. Who could possibly threaten them here?

The priests varied in age from quite old to many who were younger than Ethan. They were paired older to younger, masters to pupils, training in the ways of The Order. Younger combinations fought and trained with wooden Bokkens while the more experienced students sparred against their mentors with battle ready, steel weapons.

As Ethan shook hands with many of the young men, he could not take his eyes off those conducting their training exercises around the courtyard. There were sword fights and hand-to-hand sparring. Still, in other areas, a single pupil faced down up to ten attackers at once. And in one instance, Ethan noticed the mentor was blindfolded and empty handed as the aggressors, most likely pupils, came at him with weapons. He successfully disarmed them all. “Wow,” Ethan said under his breath. I’m going to be trained to fight like that?

Ethan wondered if Levi felt somewhat out of place here. After all, Bonifast was not here to join the priestly order, so he seemed more like a fish out of water-a captain without a ship.

A water wagon came out onto the vast courtyard and began to make its rounds among the various training yards. Students and mentors alike took their fill from the wagon’s side spickets, refreshing themselves. “Let’s get you two settled into some sleeping quarters, a hot bath, and a meal,” Gideon said. “Then we’ll go and see the High Priest of The Order, Isaiah.”

As promised, Gideon treated Ethan and Levi to the hospitality of The Order. A bath fed by one of the hot springs in the mountain and a meal of chicken and vegetables grown in the temple gardens. When they were dressed again, Gideon found them and led them to an anteroom of the High Priest’s quarters. “Isaiah will be with us in a few moments,” Gideon said, opening the door to let them walk in before him.

“I’m already here, Gideon,” said a deep voice near the fireplace.

Other than the fire, the room was lit entirely by candlelight, despite it still being light outside. The chamber was stone like all of the rooms they had seen so far, cut from the very mountain itself. But here intricately carved paneling adorned every wall.

A tall man sat in a finely crafted leather chair next to the hearth. Isaiah motioned for them to sit next to him. “Please sit, gentlemen. We have much to discuss,” he said.

Ethan, Gideon, and Levi each took a seat in front of the High Priest of Shaddai. He had white hair, thinning but not bald and a neatly trimmed white beard. His robe was different from the others, sand colored with a matching sash at the waist and breeches. All of the priests wore the same flexible leather shoes with a short tie at the back of the ankle to tighten it on the foot. He sipped tea from a plain cup. “Gideon, pour for our guests, please,” he said.

Gideon bowed to the High Priest and poured a cup of the light colored tea for each of his friends. Despite the obvious quality, Ethan noticed that the rooms in the temple complex were all rather plain. There was a simple elegance to everything-a practical aspect to all he surveyed. Everything had its use. Somehow, he already felt at home being here.

Ethan sipped on the tea. It tasted very good: a hint of cinnamon and not too hot.

“Young man, Gideon tells me that you are the Deliverer of prophecy,” Isaiah said.

Ethan nearly spit the tea back into his cup. This Isaiah was certainly abrupt. “That is what Gideon has told me as well.”

“And what do you think?” Isaiah sipped again from his cup.

“Well, I do have special abilities which allow me to shift from the spiritual to the physical and I was born in Salem as the prophecy says the Deliverer must be. But honestly, sir, I think the Lord could have picked someone more capable than I am.”

“Really, what do you mean?”

“I’ve failed the Almighty. Despite the power He’s given me, Mordred still lives.” Ethan hung his head in shame before the High Priest’s gaze.

“Indeed,” Isaiah said, then he laughed-something Ethan hadn’t expected.

Ethan glanced at Gideon, trying to gauge Isaiah’s reaction. “Sir, I’m not sure I understand what is so funny.” Did this man not realize all was lost?

“My dear young man, you have not failed,” Isaiah said. “Shaddai has taught you a lesson in humility and nothing more, though that is certainly worth more than gold. Mordred lives only because it is not yet time for the prophecy to be fulfilled.”

“I don’t understand,” Ethan admitted.

“Learn this one thing now, Ethan, and never forget it: nothing can prevent the Almighty’s purposes from being accomplished. And for you to realize you cannot perform this task without the Lord is vitally important. None of us can do any truly good thing without Him, Ethan. The things you’ve seen, so far, should lead you to understand that we are totally dependent upon Shaddai. And that is how He desires it to be. Mankind’s great failure has always been to seek independence from our Creator.”

Hope rose in Ethan’s heart. He had not failed-all was not lost. He thought about what he had been through, how he had tried to go it alone. Isaiah was right. Ethan’s failure now turned to understanding and even victory. He had learned something valuable Shaddai wanted him to know.

“Master Isaiah, am I the Deliverer then, as Gideon has said?”

“From what Gideon told me, with reference to the prophecy, I was inclined to believe exactly that. But the mark upon your arm confirms it, undoubtedly. I trust we’ll see this power manifested even more in your training as a warrior-priest.”

“I’m to be trained then?”

“Yes. And what you’ve already learned from your experiences has given you a good start. Your training here will be mentally and physically challenging, but always remember this one thing and never forget it-without Shaddai, we can do nothing.”

It was a statement Ethan had heard all of his life. From his parents when he was little to Elspeth and their years spent at Howinger’s farm, it had been engrained into his mind. But perhaps only now did he really understand the depth of its meaning.

Ethan remembered Elspeth. She was still somewhere in the city of Emmanuel as far as he knew. He only hoped she could manage to stay alive until he fulfilled his purpose and destroyed Mordred. His sister was tough, a fighter and she could bear whatever she had to in order to survive-she always had.

Isaiah picked up a leather-bound book from the table next to his leather chair and opened it to a place he knew well. After a moment, Ethan recognized it. This was the Word of Shaddai. In the days before Mordred’s takeover in Nod, it had been found everywhere. At least that’s what Elspeth had told him.