The First Book of Medgag

THE BOOK OF MEDGAG

The Beginnings
All that was began with God. He spoke and all of creation came to be. The stars and the moon were placed in the heavens and set in motion by his thoughts. He formed the land of men placing it before the Sun. By his word life was released on the surface of the land. Every creature in the water, and on the land, and in the sky came from the power of God. With his own hands, he gave man existence and breathed life into his soul.

The Master God gave man dominion over the creatures of the land of men. The man named each animal in the ocean, on the ground and in the sky.

In his own likeness, God made man and from the man he created woman that the man might not be alone. When he brought woman to man, the man was so pleased that he called the woman Eve because she would be the mother of all who live. For himself, he chose the name Adam since he was the first of men.

So God made the Land of Eden and grew in its midst a garden of magnificent splendor. He gave the garden and all of Eden to the man and woman. He permitted them to use all of Eden for their own pleasure except for the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which he had planted, in the center of the garden.

At that moment of Creation the Dark One, who had fallen with the hosts of heaven, did not have authority in the land of men. When he came down to see what God had made he saw the woman walking in the garden. He asked of the woman, “Why do you not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?”

She answered him, “God has forbidden us to eat from the tree in the middle of the garden nor may we touch it or we shall die.”

“God knows you will not die,” he told her. “He knows that when you eat of the fruit of the tree he has made for you, you will be like God himself, knowing both of good and evil.”

The woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good to eat and so she took fruit from the tree and ate it. Then she gave some of the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil to her mate. He defied the will of God and he too ate of the fruit.

In the coolness of the morning, God came to fellowship with the first ones but they hid themselves from him.

“Where are you, man,” he asked?

Adam told God of the Dark One’s deception over the woman and how he took of the fruit offered by his mate. The anger of the Master burned against the man for his sin. Then God killed the beasts of the field to make coverings for the man and his mate as they saw shame in their nakedness. The Master forbid the first ones to remain in the garden having force them into the Land of Eden. To the east of the garden he placed elfin guards to watch over the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Now Adam lay with his mate and she conceived a son. Adam named the son Cain, who was followed by the birth of the second son, Abel. Cain was a tiller of the soil while Abel was pleased to tend to the flocks. Abel brought some of the first-born of his flocks, the fat portions, to the Master as a gift. Seeing this, Cain returned to his crops and brought some of the produce to God. The Master received Abel and his gift with favor; but Cain and his gift were not received. Cain was angry and his countenance fell. “Why are you so angry” asked God. “Do you not know that Abel took great care in his offering. You, however, brought in haste without thought. Return to your fields and think on what is of good and what is of self-interest.”

Cain waited until the Master had left the land and he went to his brother and said, “Let us go into the open country.” While they were there, Cain struck his brother Abel and murdered him. Then he tried to hide the body of his brother where it could not be found. The next occasion when the Master returned he asked Cain, “Where is your brother?” But Cain told the Master he did not know.

“Do you not hear the blood of your brother crying out to me from the ground,” asked God. And for his crime, the Master cast Cain out of the land of Eden and his presence into the Land of Nod. So that the brothers of man would not hunt him down, God gave to Cain a mark so that anyone who met him would not kill him.

And Cain lay with his mate and she gave him many sons and daughters. That is how the sons of Cain came to inhabit the Land of Nod. Then the sons of Cain became builders of cities and Enoch the first son of Cain built Stone City.

Adam lay with his mate and she bore him a son they called Seth, for he was the son given by God to replace Abel. Seth too had a son, whom he named Enosh. At that season of Creation men began to invoke the Master by name.

Adam and Eve had many sons and many daughters and when they had lived nine hundred and thirty seasons they died.

The twelfth son of Adam was named Javan. He was the one who led his people into the Land of Cush at the base of the mountain now know as King’s Mountains. He lay with his mate and she gave him a son he called Crom. Javan had many sons and daughters. When Javan was seven hundred and three seasons old he died.

Crom took the people into King’s Mountains in search of The Most High God. When he could not find the Master, he stayed in the mountains to call upon his name. Crom became the first of men to be called king by his people. When he was seventy seasons he lay with his mate and she gave him a son, Jared also known as the builder. King Crom had seven sons and thirteen daughters. When his seasons were full he died.

The children of Adam filled the Land of Eden. It came to be that many went from the Land of Eden to find room for their people. The descendents of Theer crossed the Pishon River and settled in the Land of Havilah. Malachi took those of his people to the Land of Asshur that run east of the river Tigris. Nahor followed the Euphrates River to the north and settled in the valley beside the Great Ocean, which is at the foot of the northern Stone Mountains.

The rest of the history of man is found in the Book of Men.

A Message to Kings
The Sons of Adam forgot the way of their God. Seeking their own pleasures they settled into the Land of Nod without purpose of life. They built great cities to their own glory, filling them with the works of their hands. The high walls and towers of the cities reached into the sky like giant hands grasping for their God. But The Most High did not respond.

So they made for themselves kings to rule over them. These kings raised armies of men and fought against each other for control of Creation. With their armies the kings did not need God. The people lost their memories of him. Their hearts turned to their own way.

The day came when God walked among the Sons of Adam and they no longer knew him.

In the first season of the kings, the Master of Creation came to me, Medgag, son of Heron, as I worshipped on the Mount of Adoration in the light of the morning. I fell before him as one stricken and I could not move.

“Arise,” he said, “and write down my words in the tongue of men. Give my words to the people that they might know me. Say this to the Sons of God: You have forgotten my name and forsaken my worship. You do not seek after me as you did in your youth. You have gone after those who fell with the Morning Star and cannot be returned. Their way is wicked and their path will bring you sorrow. Yet, you run after them as a newborn searches for the milk of his mother.”

“A fallen prince of heaven will seek to rule over men. He will mass his armies when the daughters of men cross the great divide. His armies will roll over the armies of men like a stone rolls over grass as it descends a mountain. Death will be his banner and destruction will be his way.”

The greatest of the armies of kings shall fall before the sword of the evil of the dark land. The people will perish but for the King of Kings. It shall be by his blood poured out on the blade of wood that he will pierce the head of the serpent. Only by his blood can the darkness be destroyed.”

“Say this to the kings of the land of men and write it in the tongue of men.”

I wrote on parchment the word of the Master God, The Most High of all Creation. And when I looked up I was alone.

I, Medgag, son of Heron, servant of the One who sent me, took the message to Crom the Elder who ruled from Kings Mountains. The king did not heed the Master’s warning nor did the people change their ways.

In my grief I tore my clothes and put ash on my head. When I could no longer support the foolishness of man, I returned to the Mount of Adoration.

Prayers of Medgag
This is the testimony of Medgag while he was praying in first light. I, Lamm, his servant and scribe, have written this account with my own hand as told to me by my master.

The spirit of Medgag cried out to the Master of the Mountains for the nations of men. How dreadful have become the sins of this generation? Never has man fallen so far from the Way of God. Yet, men do not see the evil of their goings and their comings. They use their daughters to barter and trade. Their sons take what they desire in their hearts, doing harm to any who resist their will. Some give up their infants to false worship.

The God of Creation looked on the tears of his servant Medgag and had pity for the sons of Adam. He spoke to Medgag saying, “Fear not in your soul for your brothers for they shall be redeemed from their evil.”

There shall be a son of a king, the descendent of a family of kings whose blood will heal men’s souls. He will come from the tribe of the great king to lead the chosen against the dark evil.

The King of Kings will unite a people. His rule will last a thousand years. The heavens will declare his worth and a star shall point the way to his beginning. Kings of foreign lands will fall at his feet in worship at his birth.

O that his children would know their Savior when he walks their roads. Who will call upon his name? Who will give him allegiance?

The King of Kings
I am Medgag, son of Heron, the least of all who serve The Most High. In my night prayers I had a vision. I recorded the things that I saw in my own hand that all might know what wondrous sights I beheld.

I saw the King of All Kings standing on a field of battle, his enemies spread out before him. On his head he wore a crown unlike any worn of kings before him or after. His empty hands held the Sword of Kings that would crush the head of evil.

Though he was betrayed by the sons of man, yet did he take the wrath upon himself? The price of victory was the fall of the Prince of Peace and Master of Men. Condemned to the grave of kings, he would not stay. The heavens would see his glory and the ground would show his footprints.

Born to the line of princes, he would stand in the place of kings. His blood will cover the ground and drench the tree of life.

How beautiful were his wounds. So white was all that was covered in his blood.

When I awoke I felt his peace. For many days I was at complete rest with my soul.

The Lament for Man
Like fire on a mountain, so are the days of men written by the hand of God before their seasons had begun. It is a story as ancient as mankind, a tale of war between good and evil. His ways are known still his path is not bared. His footsteps can distinctly be heard and yet the door remains open.

Man is the sole of the creations of God apart from the Hosts of Heaven who has been given freedom to know his way. How is it that he is so quick to give himself over to a king. And yet, before that king has grown of any age, he will seek out another claiming the first too repressive.

What has happened sons of men to your righteousness? Who has stolen it from you? How long will you insist on giving yourselves to the one who does not create?

And you, o fallen one, where is your glory? Were you not among the highest of creation? Where are you now? Did you not know the joys of the courts of heaven and behold the splendors of the throne of thrones? Yet, did you not say, “I will rise above The Most High. I will sit my throne above all.”

Were you not the most beautiful of those who served in the highest? How is it then that you took one third of the Master’s Host in your fall? You were once called the Morning Star but who honors you now?

You seek what can never truly be yours. What reward will you find for your bended knee? Are you prepared to endure the darkness of your choices?

How foolish are those who listen to the voice that can never again know forgiveness. Men of men what have you done?

We know this for sure; our destination is far better than where we are now.

There is no man who is truly free, just levels of servant hood. For what man has not traded his freedom to a taskmaster? Watch the one whose voice is the loudest for he is likely a bondservant of his deepest passions.

I once saw evil in all its darkness. It begged me in and I was drawn by its power. How hard it was to stay in the security of the light.

Why Kings are Men
Many is the king who thought more of his wisdom than reality would consider wise.

Kings always believe they must act in every situation resulting in rashness of action and shallowness of thought.

You can send a messenger to a king with good news and he will ignore the herald. But should a rider bring the king tales of trouble, he will mobilize his army and march into the field for the glory of battle.

Thoughts from the Master
As my seasons mount I find that so do my questions. This is a puzzle, a riddle of humanity’s folly. Can you make a stone come to life or awaken a fallen branch? Can you kill a God who, with a simple word, created all things? Yet men try to make life where there is none. And still does humanity struggle to extinguish the existence of the Creator.

The Master is the creator of all that is good and to wait on him is the greatest good.

We stand between the wrath of God and the lost of the world. Our prayer holds back his judgment.

Beware of the truly wise of the world. For they think they can discern the very will of God. But the ways of God are known only to him and the secrets of Creation are his alone.

The search for wisdom can lead a man to folly as the seeking of wealth can lead to ruin. Wealth is a great servant but a terrible master.

Pride is the first step to any fall and a boasting spirit leads toward destruction.

Do not fear the unexpectant. An altered plan often produces success.

Remember the God of your youth when you are old and the seasons are shorter. Surround yourself with the memories of his blessings. The God you followed with your whole heart when your seasons were fresh will keep you safe in the lateness of your seasons from the fears of a life full of regrets.

Most men pray when they have few other options. It is far better to pray before the storm than during a tempest or during a season of plenty before the coming of famine. However, a prayer never uttered is far worse than one poorly said.

I know so little about the other side of Creation, yet of this one thing I am sure; no man can make his journey there except by the will of God. No being of its realm may beckon him to cross its expanse less the man first grant him the right.

The Need to Worship
There are occasions when we must remember from whence we came that we might not loose our focus of where we want to go. We take the soil in our hands for it is our beginning. The water we use to wash the soil from our skin so that we would remember what we are. A man was made from the dust of the field, is sustained by the water of the hills and will return to the soil. Such is the way of men.

You who are of righteousness have you seen those who dwell in the dark places of life? They do not know what waits for them in the light. That is the reason they are slow to recognize the path you trod. If not for the patience of God they could never find him. This is why we pray, we, his righteous, are in their service. Our prayers hold back the wrath of their Judge; we stand between those in the darkness and the reward for evil.

A Vision of the Future
I, Medgag, when I was younger and full of strength, would climb the highest of the peaks of my mountain home. It was there that I would ask God and seek visions of his way that I might take the thoughts of my God to his creation.

On one such quest I saw the folly of man and witnessed its price. God opened my eyes and I saw a great boat drifting on an ocean the size of the land of men. In the boat was the whole of the righteous of men. The family of the one who did not turn his face from God. With him in the vessel were all of the animals of the land that must be saved. Now the boat was without oar and rudder, steered by the hand of God.

Why is it, men of Creation that you have fallen so far you cannot be restored? Why have you given yourself to the dark king? Did you not see that your ways were not the Way of God? Did you not think that the One who created you would also end your days? Now here you are. Nothing more than a remnant worth salvation.

Then I wept for the souls of my brothers and sisters. For what else could I do? I am but a voice. Oh man that you would have listened to that voice as it cried from the mountains, “Make way for the King of your salvation will come. Look for him and he will bring you what you cannot find on your own.”

The Man of God
To my brothers who will follow me up to the Mount of Adoration I pen this letter lest you think me more than the man I was. I am Medgag, servant of the Most High God. As this is my 830th season of life, I am no longer so young that I am neither ashamed of my failings nor so bold as to believe that I am without them.

It seems so long ago now when I went up to the highest of the mountains. I had asked to know what would be the way of the nations of men because of their fall from the Way of God. And when I saw the future of man’s deeds I lifted my fist to God and demanded that he change the course of events.

For my arrogance I was struck down. My eyes were closed; my ears were shut and my voice taken from away. For one season I was without their use. Left only with the thoughts of God I saw the excesses of my life. When my season of humility was ended my senses returned. I became whole.

I was humbled that I might see his greatness above all. I was brought low that I might rise higher on his wings than I ever imagined. The lesser I was, the greater he became.

The Coming King
When I saw the King of Kings he was standing before the Dark One. His weapon was like that of a large sword forged of the wood of the forest. The blow he struck was mortal to the Deceiver.

The Hosts of Heaven celebrated his victory while the fallen fled before his righteousness.

The King who was above all kings stood in front of the gates of Hell to declare, “It is finished.” And generations before and those yet to come will know his salvation.

Disciplines of Faith
It should be understood that man is totally free. Yet freedom has its limitations. One can chose a path but not the results of walking that path. Pleasures today can become tomorrow’s torments.
Strong is the man who has given all that he is to the Way of God. He will have the power to move mountains and the wisdom not to.

A wise man controls his tastes and retrains his impulses.

Six days are for man and one is given to God. A tithe of one’s wealth brings release from all possessions.

Strong drink clouds the mind while water cleanses. Heavy meals slow the body but moderation provides a healthy spirit.

Free is the man controlled by the Way of God. He shall never know the slavery of the one in bondage to his own desires.

Understand that our true battles are not against the weapons of this world or the flesh of men. No, we fight against the enemies of the Way of God in all their formations. The rulers and masters, soldiers and minions of the dark way who seek nothing but to destroy man’s relationship with his God.

Humility keeps a man from the pitfalls of pride, thinking himself more than he is and important beyond his worth. The truly humble man does not seek his own honor but the betterment of mankind even at the cost of his life. The wise man keeps his accomplishments to himself and the praise of God always on his lips.

A short life well lived is far more desirable than a long life foolishly spent. The days are numbered and the lengths of a man’s days are written on the parchments of Creation. Therefore, do not let faith slip from your grasp. It is truly the greatest of God’s gifts to a man or woman. How hard is it to believe that a bird can fly when you have seen the soaring of a hawk? How hard is it to believe in the strength of the wind when you have seen it topple a tree? But to believe that of which you have only heard and never seen, that is the measure of a man. If you have tested a thing and not found it to be false then what is it? Faith is the ability to believe when eyes do not see, ears do not hear and fingers do not touch. The Way of God is foolishness to those who seek to make him like a man. His path is clear but his hands work in mysteries.

Stories From Creation
The Hosts of Heaven gathered before the throne of God with the evil one in their midst.
“Your brothers have come to give me praise,” said God. “Why have you come?”

“I have come to demand what is mine,” he replied.

“Your season will come,” responded God, “and you will receive what you have earned.”

With that, the evil one left the presence of God for there was nothing for him there. He went to the nations of men in search of what he desired. And he found there men willing to give him what was his great longing. They traded what they had, not considering it of much worth. But the Dark One was not content. He saw that those willing to give him worship were few and he coveted the whole of Creation. That is when he set his heart on having all of the souls of men for his own. Yet, it was not his season.

Wanderings From The Land of Nod
I once came upon a man sitting on a log watching two other men fighting. I asked him what the fight was all about. “Nothing,” he responded. “Why do you not stop them?” I asked. “Then what would I do to amuse myself?” was his response.

In the richness of the farmlands of the plains of Asshur was a farmer tilling his soil. I remarked to him of the splendor of his crops. “It is the morning mists,” he said. How strange, I thought, to give praise to the tool and not the Creator of the tool.

There was once a man who was so wise that even the God of Creation could not teach him. He eventually died and learned the extent of his knowledge. Such is the pity.

The Most High God told me once of the creation of woman. There is no other creature in Creation more precious to him. Yet I found those who used women as barter for trades and objects for pleasure. Can there be anything in all of Creation more foolish? I think not. Blessed will be the man whose values are from the heart of God.

Many were the stories of the men who claimed that they could not die until they were ready. But I know them to be false. For I was there when they died. One such man was my brother of younger seasons, Zerubab. He was a proud man of many passions. He built a city of stone. His vineyard grew the grapes for one thousand skins of wine. He took for himself four mates and had children and children of his children too numerous to count. Yet he fought death to the last breathe refusing to release his life. In the end, it was not his to determine the number his days and he passed to the other side. I saw it all with my own eyes.

The Song of the King
A verse of song written by Medgag for the worship of the faithful in the Hall of Light.

I am lost in the silent spaces of Creation.
I have fallen into the chasms of despair.
How deep must I go?
How long must I stay here?
When comes the King?
When comes the Deliverer of my soul?
When comes the One who will set me free from all I have become?

In the quiet of the night my heart bleeds.
In the darkness of life my spirit cries.
Who will heal me?
Who will relieve me of my suffering?
When comes the King?
When comes the Deliverer of my soul?
When comes the One who will set me free from all I have become?

There are those who claim the darkness.
And those who come to seize the dying.
But there is One who forgives.
One who opens the tombs of the living.
Send forth the King.
Prepare for the Deliverer of our souls.
Make way for the One setting free the captives from their chains.

The Song of the Hunt
Chase the wind and grab the waves.
Let loose the hounds for the hunt must begin.
Run swiftly the trails of the forest and search for tomorrow.
For today has been lost to evil, and yesterday was given to the folly of men.

The City Of Kings(continued)

Chapter Three (continued):

The City of Kings

The City of Kings was built around the Palace of the First Kings, which was, itself, constructed over the tomb of Crom the Elder. The city was nestled in a mountain range known as King’s Mountains. The ancients wrote stories of how the first king, Crom, had led his clan into the mountains in search of God when the people came to realize how they missed the presence of their God. Prophets in the land had declared that God had left mankind because humans had abandoned the Way of God. Crom, called the “Elder” because legend said a younger king would come from his seed and unite the people under one king and one God, went into the mountains to find a peak where he might be closer to heaven. Crom the Elder hoped to attract the attention of God so that the Supreme One would return to the land of men and walk among them again.

The first king of King’s Mountains died in defeat having never found that which he had sought. His people built him a tomb on one of the highest mountain tops, crowned his son, Jared, their king and vowed to wait on the mountain top for the day when God would open the gates of heaven and descend upon them.

Jared had four sons and three daughters. He gave mates to each of his four sons and they gave the sons of Jared sons and daughters. Then Jared brought sons from the people of the forest, the plain and the ocean side and gave them to his daughters, who gave their mates sons and daughters. This is how the Seven Clans of King’s Mountains came to be.

The kings of the Seven Clans built a city of polished stone carved from the sides of King’s Mountains around the tomb of Crom the Elder. They were the first men to put walls around their cities. As The City of Kings grew outward, they built more walls around it until the city had walls within walls. The people of the Seven Clans took much pride in their city. Their confidence was enhanced by their ability to erect the shiny walls so strong no enemy would think to attack them. In their city walls they found their security and their security replaced the need of the people for the presence of their God.

The banquet in honor of Christophe, son of Crom, was to begin at last light. Simon waited to leave the Hall until the darkness had settled in upon the city. He donned the red cloak of Master Keron pulling the hood over his head, hiding his features. He set out walking toward the palace with his head bowed, hands clasped in front. Every effort of his body was focused on emulating as best he could the walk and manner of a Gifted. Crowded streets packed with those still seeking trades parted before him in silence. The sound of his boots in dirty snow, frozen with the sun’s descent, seemed to echo in the void created by the unnatural quiet. Word that a Gifted walked the streets raced ahead of Simon as the way to the palace gates cleared. The usually noisy markets lapsed into an uneasy calm as thousands of guilty eyes watched the perceived Gifted’s progress.

From the shelter of the hood of Keron’s cloak, Simon scanned those lining the streets. Everywhere in the retreating crowds Simon could see soldiers wearing the seven different plaid patterns of the Seven Clans.

Crom the Younger was the tenth king of the mountain clans to bear the name of the first king. He was the seventh king from the clan of Torr to carry the name. He was more the warrior than any who had come before him. Iron of will and single-minded in his determination to unite all the people of the Land of Nod, he was convinced that the destiny was his to become the one king, the King of Kings. So much so that he was raising a mighty army in King’s Mountains.

Torches lit the streets from the gates of the inner wall surrounding the palace to the entrance. The torchlight obscured the stars. Guards lined the final approach up the stone stairway, past the huge statue of Crom the Younger riding a horse, his sword pointing the way forward, and into the palace.

As he passed through the gates of the palace walls, Simon slowed his pace making each step more deliberate. He could feel eyes following him, the stares of the soldiers of the palace guard and the servants rushing back and forth with their duties. Ascending the stairs, he saw two huge closed doors at the top of the landing he assumed led into the banquet hall. The doors were guarded on each side by giant statues of Crom the Elder and his son, Jared. They were made of hardwood and would require two hands and considerable effort if he were to try to open one. Slowly he continued climbing the stairs, head down and hands clasped in front at his waist, tucked in his sleeves. Three steps from the doors they opened before him as if by magic. On the inside the palace doors he saw to either side two servants smartly dressed holding the large handles of the doors with one hand and, while bowing, motioning him with the other hand down a long corridor.

The hallway walls were constructed of heavy hardwood beams arching overhead and wood paneling from the floors to the peak of the ceilings. Sculptures of the ancient royalty that once ruled the Seven Clans depicted in noble posses stood on pedestals every few steps elevating them above. Oil lamps on the walls cast Simon’s shadows in every direction. His sheepskin mountain boots made little noise on the stone floor.

The clamor of the banquet, already in progress, flowed up the passageway to meet him. The smell of food and warmth trailed after the noise tickling the youth’s senses.

The door at the end of the corridor was also opened just as Simon reached it. The entrance emptied into a large room lined with four rows of tables filled with happy revelers laughing, eating and drinking their fill. And why not? The king was in a mood to celebrate his new son and disposed to providing generous quantities of food and drink to any and all of his clansmen wise enough to accept the gift. Stands holding the lit oil lamps dotted the floor. Columns of twenty lengths supported the ceiling of polished wood reflecting the light. A raised area that was as wide as four lengths and surrounding the main floor on all four sides supported the columns. Five steps led down to the sunken main floor.

Standing in silence in the entrance to the hall Simon took in the sights and sounds of the festivities while waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence. He had expected a herald to announce him but that did not happen. With his face still concealed under the hood he allowed his eyes to scan back and forth across the room. He recognized each of the plaid patterns of the Seven Clans again represented in the dress of the attendees enjoying the king’s hospitality. All the celebrants were so caught up with their feasting that no one paid him heed. One servant attending to the door leaned forward from behind it asking if he could move forward so the door could be closed. When Simon did not budge the servant backed off to his station and waited.

Well, he thought to himself, he was a Gifted, or almost one, and patience was one of the strengths of the Gifted. Wait for the moment, he reminded himself. Wait for your destiny. He stood in silence and gave his full concentration to staying as motionless as possible. Master Keron was fond of quoting Medgag, “The Master is the creator of all that is good and to wait on him is the greatest good.”

His body surged with confidence at the thought of his mentor. He allowed himself a smile concealed under his cloak.

The suddenness of total quiet jolted Simon from his daydreams. He forced himself to remain still.

Someone must have noticed the red-cloaked figure standing in the entryway. First one table, then another stopped whatever they were doing and turned around to see what their tablemates were looking at. The silence washed over the banquet hall like a wave rushing onto a beach. Everyone’s attention was on Simon now including the servants, frozen in place with their platters still in hand.

Simon lifted just his eyes to the king’s table under the protection of his hood. The king attired in a white wool shirt with a sash of the black and gold plaid of the clan of Torr and matching plaid pants, sat with a mug of drink in his hand held just at the lips as if posing for a statue. Beside Crom was the queen, Sari, in a similar white blouse draped by the sash that was three quarters black and gold plaid and one quarter purple and white of the clan of Akan. She wore a floor-length skirt of black and gold plaid and was caught in mid-bite with a morsel of meat half in her mouth.

“What is this,” King Crom roared across the room slamming his mug down on the top of the table?

Behind the anonymity of his red cloak, Simon held his place. Patience, he told himself. Rule the moment, to take command of the situation.

Recognition of the red cloak became evident in the king’s face. There was an immediate hesitation. Unable to see the person behind the hood, he could not determine who was standing before him. He turned to Merran, his aid, positioned behind his seat and spoke a brief word into his ear.

The aide walked around the table and approached Simon. His footsteps echoed in the stillness of the hall as if he was the only one in the room.

Bowing to Simon he addressed him, “The Noble King requests the name of the Gifted who stands before him.”

Simon considered the request. “Say to the king of King’s Mountains that the voice is that of Master Keron, Head Master of the Council of the Order of Medgag.” He still had not moved or lifted his head. He kept his words soft to disguise his youthful voice, yet they still filled the room.

The aide walked back to the king and repeated the words even though all had heard what had been said.

“Bid Master Keron to come forward and join us in our celebration.” the king instructed his warrior trying to appear more relaxed. Though Crom was clearly shaken by the appearance of the Head Master. He was obviously not expecting Gifted Keron.

Once again the aid walked back to the red-cloaked figure standing above the banquet on the raised floor. The Noble Merran tried to act official and dignified but he was obviously quite uncomfortable in his role. He tried to speak but the words seemed to catch in his mouth forcing him to clear his throat. “The king requests that Noble Master Keron join him at the royal table to feast the birth of Christophe, son of Crom the Younger.”

“Does the king think that the Order of Medgag has naught to do but eat and drink? Is there no limit to the insults this king will heap on those who serve The Most High God?” The scribe felt sorry for the aide as he turned around to take his words to the king. His attention had been on the king as he had spoken and he saw the furry in the king’s eyes.

Even before Merran could get back to the king, Crom exploded in anger. “How dare you come into my house and insult me.” He smashed his hand on the table. “I am…”

“You are what?” demanded Simon lifting his head slightly but still not enough for his face to be seen. “You are but a man. No more and no less. But what do I find here? A celebration of a man when the God who made this man goes unacknowledged and unworshipped.”

The words caught the king by surprise, unaccustomed as he was to being interrupted. He stood with his mouth open in mid-sentence and thought. The king sat down in stunned silence.

Simon used the pause to move forward down the steps and across the center aisle toward the king. He could feel the celebrants on the ends of the tables moving back from him. He stopped four steps from the king’s table. In this position only the king, the queen and whoever was sitting on the sword arm of the king could see his face. He steeled himself for the king’s reaction as he lifted his head slightly to reveal his face.

Not surprisingly, the king was speechless looking under the hood. The scribe could imagine the difficulty for the king’s in deciding how to respond to the beardless face of a youth he saw under the hood. The queen sat dumbfounded, unable to react.

Simon did not wait for the king to decide what to do next. “I have come for an audience with the king. It is my purpose and I will accept nothing less. The voice of Master Keron demands to be heard by the king alone.”

Crom realized the youth under the hood had provided him with a means of saving face in front of his guests. If the Gifted impersonator dropped his hood, the king would loose respect for cowering in his presence. But should Crom defy the request for an audience, he would risk angering the brotherhood. Relief flooded over him. “Noble Merran, take this honored guest to my private chambers.”

The aide/warrior motioned Simon to follow him from the hall. Behind him he heard the king call for the resumption of the festivities.

The private chamber of the king contained one chair against a sidewall. Windows lined the outside wall from floor to ceiling and lighted the room during the day were black from the darkness of the night. The floor was of polished stone and glistened with the light of the oil lamps mounted on the walls. Simon moved into the center of the room and waited for the king.

Noble Merran closed the door and stood to the side of it. It was not long before the deliberate footfalls of the king and others could be heard. The door burst open. Simon was sure that the king was trying to make a statement with his entrance. But he was determined as well to fulfill his mission. Crom walked directly to his chair without acknowledging the scribe and sat in it as casually and kingly as he could.

“Merran,” he called to the noble warrior, “ask this person who he is and to explain why I should not have him executed for impersonating a Gifted.”

The aide approached Simon but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Simon cut him off.

“I am no more impersonating a Gifted than the man Crom is impersonating a follower of The Most High God.”

“You come into my kingdom to insult me?” screamed Crom. “I will have your head removed from your body and we will see how insolent you will be then, eh?”

“It is not I who has caused the insult here. I came to you with the voice of Master Keron of the Council of Gifted of the Order of Medgag, whose cloak I wear as a sign of his authority. This messenger would speak with his master’s voice on things of great importance. You ignore his messenger for the sake of a feast to your own glory. Do you think yourself so lifted up that you deserve to be celebrated? When was the last occasion you feted the Most High of the Heavens or called for the Festival of Creation? When did you last visit the Mount of Adoration and offered a gift of your wealth to your God? Do you not still collect the tithe of the people of King’s Mountains? Yet how much of that which is collected truly finds its way to God?”

Simon allowed the king the chance to reflect on what he had said. He kept the hood over his head but look directly into the eyes of the king. Crom, for his part, had his elbow resting on the arm of the chair with his chin against his closed fist. His mood changed from anger to brooding, his eyes fell. It was not a well-known fact that much of what the people of the Seven Clans presented as their seasonal tithe never actually reached the Mount. Traditionally, the king would gather the tithe offerings from the clans and journey to the Mount of Adoration where he would formally offer it to God through the Order. The brotherhood distributed the tithe to those in need throughout the nations of men. In reality, Crom kept most of the offerings to finance the building of his city and maintain a strong standing army. The Order received a token for the poor usually delivered by the king’s messenger.

“For far too long the Seven Clans have not called upon the name of the God of Creation. Instead they struggle with the other nations of men for control of the resources of the land without any thought of the One who has made all things. And now it has come to the ears of Master Keron that the one who sits on the throne of the First King has raised an army to bring together the nations of men for war. It is to that king that I bring a message from the lips of Master Keron, himself. Where is that king and is he prepared to hear the message of the servant of God?”

Again, there was silence as the scribe waited on the older man to absorb his words.

Eventually the king murmured, “Is your message verbal or written?”

“My master commanded me to speak the letter to you before I give you the words he committed to parchment.”

“Then speak your words… How should I call you?”

Simon sensed that the opportunity had come and it was now right for personal contact with the king. Using both hands he flicked the hood to the back of his head. “I am called Simon, son of Dan.”

“Well, Simon, son of Dan, let us hear this message from your master.”

Clearing his throat and with his most practiced voice repeated the message Keron had Simon memorize what seemed a life of seasons ago.

“To Crom, king of the Seven Clans of The City of Kings in King’s Mountains, I, Master Keron of the Order of Medgag, greet you on behalf of the Council of the Order of Medgag.”

“In the ancient of days the sons of God were pleased to walk in the company of their Creator and know him. When they called on his name, he was quick to speak to them. Long ago were those days and the memory of men has drifted. Less do they seek fellowship with their God and more do they desire their own ways. So it was that Medgag son of Heron, First of the Gifted took to writing down an account of the way of The Most High that man would remember from whence he has come that he would not stray far from God’s perfect path.”

“But what have the nations of men done with the words of Master Medgag? They have used the efforts of his mind to justify their own footsteps. His thoughts have become the servants of their plans and schemes.”

“And such is the case with the king who rules King’s Mountains. You have used the writings of Medgag to raise yourself above all other men. You seek to make yourself the king of the nations of men. Who has given you that right? Who has blessed your actions with righteousness?”

“Hear now the words of the Council of the Order of Medgag and know what you have done. Your pride has set into motion events that will consume you and your household. Sons shall fall to the sword and trials will flow through your seed. You cannot stop what will come to pass even if your mind was so desirous. Through your actions will come your destruction. You have used the powers of the Dark Ones in an unholy alliance to promote your claim. If only you had come to the Mount of Adoration and paid homage to your true King. Oh that you would have sought his face before you presumed to know his way.”

“Your only hope now is to salvage that which you profess to love above yourself. The child, Christophe, is to be given to the servant of God you see before you. He will deliver the boy into the hands of those that will care for him until he is of the age to make his own destiny. Then will he seek his path among men.”

“Know this, King Crom of the Seven Clans; your road is set in eternity. Your debt must be collected so that men will know the folly of your ways. You may try to bring to a halt what you have started but we of the Order do not see success in those efforts.”

“You sought to be made the King of Kings. In the end he will keep his own destiny.”

“I am your friend and my prayers are for your soul.”

With each word, Simon saw the king slide further and further down in his chair. His head slumped onto his chest. He is a defeated man, thought the scribe.

When he finished speaking there was absolute stillness in the room. Stunned by the king’s reaction to the verbal letter, the men who had accompanied Crom into the room tried to melt back into the walls.

Simon pulled the parchment letter from under his cloak and held it out in front of him with both hands presenting it to the regent. While Simon stood without speaking, Crom sat motionless staring at the letter in the scribe’s hands but making no effort to take it. The scribe was unprepared for the lack of reaction on the king’s part. In a moment of decision, the scribe slid his hands beyond the ends of the parchment allowing the letter to fall on the stone floor.

The parchment smacked as it hit the floor.

Simon brought his hands back together showing his readiness and resolve to take the child.

Finally the king broke the silence in a horse voice, “When do you want the child?”

Remembering the council of Master Keron, Simon said, “I will take him with me now. We will leave tomorrow at first light.”

“Tonight! Now?” The king was shocked. “What of his mother? What shall I tell her?”

“It would be best for all if you told no one until I have departed on the morrow. Please bring me the boy now and I will take my leave.”

Still the king hesitated.

“There are dark forces on the move as we speak seeking to take control of the child,” prompted Simon. “He is not safe even in the palace of King’s Mountains. Agents of the Dark Ones lurk everywhere, especially here. Your son will not live to see the passing of the moon should he remain in The City of Kings.”

Crom’s head shot up. He regarded momentarily the young scribe, measuring carefully the threat, before motioning Merran to his side. After whispering instructions to the aid Merran left the room with two of the guards. The king did not speak. Simon pulled the hood back over his head, wanting to be sure that none but the king would get a good look at his features.

It did not take Merran long to return. With him were the two guards and a young maiden carrying a small bundle wrapped in a blanket of black and gold plaid and a large bag. She had the appearance of confusion about her. She looked with fear at the red-cloaked Simon and then quickly to Crom.

“Give me the child,” commanded the king.

She hesitated for just a moment then, with her head bowed and eyes down, she lifted up the infant to Crom.

Seeing the bag, Crom demanded, “What is in the bag?”

“It is all that is needed to change and feed the prince for a day. Noble Merran insisted that I bring it with me.”

“You may leave, girl, and give the bag to Noble Merran.”

Crom sat in the chair looking down at the child in his arms. Battle hardened, accustomed to the rigors of campaigning in the field, his heart melted at the sight of his son. His eyes watered for a moment but he blinked back the tears. Without another word he stood and walked the baby over to Simon. Slowly Crom laid the child into the scribe’s arms.

He turned his back to the scribe folding his arms and bowing his head.

Simon did not hesitate, he did pause long enough to collect the bag from Merran left by the maiden and then he was out of the door. Skirting the banquet hall by using the servant’s corridors to the kitchens, he managed to exit the palace without meeting anyone who might challenge his presence. It took a while to find the street leading back to the Hall of Light since the kitchen doors emptied into a side street. He was relieved when he recognized the main thoroughfare running through the major marketplace.

When he arrived at the Hall, he found, as expected, his brother scribes were waiting at the door to admit him. There was much to do and the night was short.

One of Simon’s fellow scribes took the young Christophe and looked after feeding and changing his clothe. Searching the bag Simon had brought from the palace the scribe selected some of the items from the bag and stored them away in a satchel Simon would carry on his back. They would burn the bag and its remaining contents Simon had brought from the palace later.

Simon removed the red cloak and reversed it exposing the brown interior lining again. He hastily ate the small meal set out for him. That done he went to the room of where the young prince was being cared for.

The two took the luggage and the child into a concealed cellar beneath the Hall living quarters. It was a well-kept secret that all of the Order’s facilities had hidden passages to permit members to leave in emergencies. Few other than the Gifted or those scribes who tended the buildings knew of the secret escapes.

The third member of the team was responsible for opening the passage at both ends. The tunnel ran under the walls exiting into stables outside of the outer most walls, which was also owned by the Order. They leased the property to a family for a small fee with the understanding that nothing would be done to alter the stables without the Order’s permission. This was to guarantee the exit remained concealed.

It took the three scribes a while to navigate the passage. At the stables end of the tunnel the three embraced. The two scribes returned to the Hall of Light through the tunnel where they sealed and hid the entrance. Simon closed up the opening to the stables and carefully hid it as he had been instructed.

He put on the cloak with the lining out, the satchel and the shoulder bag. Wrapping up the now sleeping child in a blanket, he left the stables. With his hood covering his head he slipped down the empty streets of the city dwellings outside of the walls, the snow crunching under his boots. O little one, he thought, just stay asleep for a watch or so and we will be safely away.

The king and his men would expect him to return by way of the Great Highway in the direction of the Mount of Adoration. Instead he would take the northeast route of the Great Highway into the Land of Asshur. He was confident that it would be safe to travel the Highway for a couple of watches, barely long enough to get out of the mountains. After that, he would be into the open country of the plains of Asshur.

Three watches into his new journey he was indeed out of the mountains and had the flat open country spread out before him in the darkness just beyond the foothills. It was prudent now to move off of the Great Highway. Christophe was still sleeping so he decided he could afford to continue until either he tired or the child awoke. He wanted to let his mind wander on the writing of Medgag but he reminded himself of the need to keep his senses alert to his surroundings. The night beyond King’s Mountains did not belong to the king’s soldiers.

It was about the seventh watch of the night when he stopped for a rest. Baby Christophe began to stir so it was a good opportunity. He fed and changed the infant and wrapped him back up in his blanket. Dry and content, Christophe fell back to sleep. Simon curled up around his charge wrapping them both in his cloak and drifted off into a light sleep.

The scribe slept so lightly that he awoke after only a watch to give a listen to his surroundings. This happened on two more occasions when he determined that it was best to move on. Christophe began to make small noises. He figured it was the last watch of the night and first light was coming. He fed and changed Christophe and ate a cake from his provisions. With the baby asleep again, he moved off a little ways and made water.

He positioned the satchel and the shoulder bag, and cradled Christophe in his arms. He was ready for the most dangerous part of his return to the Order. Simon’s goal was Hammer’s Bridge. It was the only way to cross the Euphrates River in the northern part of the Land of Asshur. That would put him in the eastern part of the Asshur Mountains, home to his family. He would cross the mountains using the trails he had traveled as a boy. However, to get there from his little camp he would have to walk the farmland of the plains of Asshur, which eased into the foothills of the mountains. He had two concerns, the bandits who occasionally raided the farms and the farmers of the low country who could be bigger thieves than the bandits. The fierceness of the farm people made attacking them a hazardous business for bandits. He could not afford to hide out in the foothills of King’s Mountains and wait on another night’s darkness.

Simon knew he could not risk travel over the Great Highway. A squad of the king’s horsemen could easily catch up to him and he expected that the king would surely rethink his decision to give up the child and send his warriors to find him. Staying away from the Great Highway and using trails and secondary roads would make it more difficult, if not impossible for the king’s men to find them. The trick would be avoiding anyone who might see him as an easy target to rob.

Well, he thought, the beginning of any journey must start with one step. With a big sigh he picked up Christophe and took the first step.

**

The man in the red cloak leaving the Hall of Light just after first dark took Karr by surprise. He had not heard of a Gifted visiting the city nor had any messages from the king gone out to the Mount of Adoration since the birth of the prince. It seemed to him the current relationship between the king and the Order was not a particularly close one. While dwelling on the significance of the assumed Gifted he trailed the cloaked figure through the city streets. As expected the cloaked one went directly to the palace. Karr knew that there was a banquet tonight in honor of the new prince but the Gifted was more than fashionably late, he was on the border of being rude by mountain customs.

It took the Stoner a while to make his way into the palace using his contacts. Once inside he learned of the confrontation between the king and the unknown Gifted. Even though the rumors claimed Head Master Keron as the identity of the visitor, Karr did not believe the elderly Gifted could slip out of the Mount of Adoration, let alone find his way to The City of Kings, without the Stoner spy hearing whispers about it. Both the king and the queen were absent from the festivities, which set the banquet hall a buzz with rumors and gossip. As soon he discovered that the Gifted had left the palace he hurriedly retraced his steps to the Hall of Light. He did not see the Gifted return and did even know if he had. But he settled down to watch the Hall. He was a patient man and did not have any other pressing business tonight.

The City Of Kings

Chapter Three:

The City of Kings

The spirit of Medgag cried out to the Master of the Mountains for the nations of men. How dreadful have become the sins of this generation? Never has man fallen so far from The Way of God. Yet, men do not see the evil of their goings and their comings. They use their daughters to barter and trade. Their sons take what they desire in their hearts, doing harm to any who resist their will. Some give up their infants to false worship.

The God of Creation looked on the tears of his servant Medgag and had pity for the sons of Adam. He spoke to Medgag saying, “Fear not in your soul for your brothers for they shall be redeemed from their evil.”

There shall be a son of a king, the descendent of a family of kings whose blood will heal men’s souls. He will come from the tribe of the great king to lead the chosen against the dark evil.
Medgag: Prayers of Medgag

Simon lifted his eyes to The City of Kings. It was more beautiful than he had ever imagined, for a boy raised in far from the most powerful cities of Nod. Nestled in the heart of King’s Mountains, the city glistened in the mid-day sun. Young Simon had heard of the beauty of the home of the Seven Clans but was still amazed by how brightly the stones of the walls shown as they reflected the sun’s light off their smooth surfaces. It was as if the walls and towers were made of ice. Built on a small hill surrounded by larger mountains covered in snow, the rays emanating from the city seemed to touch the neighboring mountains like the fingers of God. From the middle of the city a large, tall tower stretched up into the sky higher than any of the other buildings or towers with the black and gold banner of the clan of the Torr. Seven lower towers representing and flying the banners of the Seven Clans encircled it. Four walls ringed the city, each taller than the other the further out the wall was from the center. It was the season of the frozen mists and the roofs and battlements were covered in snow and ice giving the buildings and city walls a mystical appearance.

The City of Kings was the most majestic of all the cities in the Land of Nod. And legend claimed it could never be taken from without. While some of the city’s outlined areas were rough and the people living in them lacking in the wealth displayed in the rest of the city, for the most part the clansmen living within the city’s walls were devoted to displays of their riches. The homes and estates ringing the palace were built with the same smooth stone that reflected so brilliantly the sun’s rays. Even the wood shingled roofs were coated with a sealer made from the sap of trees dried to a glossy finish.

Simon felt the coolness of the air invigorating him as it only could a child of the mountains and the crunch of the snow brought on by the season of the frozen mist under his boots. He inhaled a lung full of the crisp air and held it. The moment of rest was over. He lowered his eyes again to the highway. With a sigh he returned to the task of forcing his tired feet to move again. “One step before the next,” he reminded himself. He would be within the safety of the walls by last light.

His journey had taken a full three days travel from the Mount of Adoration to The City of Kings. He was told that it would take him five days but a determined Simon committed himself to a forced march along the Great Highway.

The thought of leaving the Sanctuary of the Order of Medgag had distressed him the night Master Keron had come to him with the mission. But he had committed himself to a life of service and obedience compelling a faithfully undertake of any task given him.

All his short life, Simon son of Dan had wanted to be a Gifted. Stories of the piety and devotion of the Brotherhood of the Order of Medgag had captured the imagination of the child from his earliest seasons. He had prepared hard and accomplished all that his tutors asked of him. Once he entered the Order as a member, he showed much promise to the Council of Gifted of the Order and was quick to earn the status of scribe. He was the youngest scribe ever to become one of the three chief scribes to the Council.

Simeon, the father of Simon’s father, the eighth son of his family, fell in love with Marti, a daughter of Cain. He took her away from the Stone Mountains but could not find land in King’s Mountains. No one would trade with him for land because his mate, a Stoner, wore the mark of Cain. So, he traveled north across the plains of Asshur and the Euphrates River into the Mountains of Asshur. It was in those mountains where he settled on a peak unclaimed by anyone. He found the mountain to be a perfect place for one who no longer desired extended contact with the rest of the Land of Nod.

He brought his mate and flocks to the mountain and named it Heaven’s Step for he believed it lifted him closer to God.

In the second season of their union, Marti conceived and bore her mate a daughter. Over the next twelve seasons she would give him seven daughters. Although she was a Stoner, none of the daughters of Marti were bronze of skin or hair. The daughters each grew to the age of decision and left Heaven’s Step to be with their mates.

While Simeon loved each of his daughters, his heart was heavy when each took a mate because he had no son to pass on his mountain and all that he and his family had built. Marti saw the sadness in his face and went to God in prayer. She asked God to give her a son for her beloved mate. In her seventy-seventh season of life God answered her prayers and she conceived and bore a son and they called him Dan.

The couple took the boy, as they had each of their daughters, to the Mount of Adoration when they offered their tithe for the season. They presented him to Master Keron of the Order of Medgag that he might bless the child. Keron took the infant into his arms and lifted him up to God.

When he had finished blessing the child, he kept him in his arms. Looking Marti in the eyes he said to Simeon, “Son of Adam, this child is a gift of God but has been given providentially. In his future the Master, who gave him to you, will take a portion of him back as a tithe offering.” With that said, he returned the child to Simeon’s arms.

Each season, when they journeyed to the Mount of Adoration to give their tithe, Marti feared that Master Keron would keep her son. Each season they returned home their son still with them.

As the seasons passed, Dan became of age. He asked of his father permission to go in search of a mate. Reluctantly, Simeon blessed his son and sent him on his way weighted down with gifts for the family of any perspective mate. Dan returned to Heaven’s Step after three passing moons with a mate, Annia. To Simeon’s joy, his new daughter loved his mountain as much, if not more, than he did himself.

It was not long after that Annia gave to Dan a son. The couple took their son with the family on the seasonal trip to the Mount of Adoration. Simeon and Marti watched with great concern as Dan and Annia presented their son to be blessed. They had not forgotten the words of Master Keron on the day he blessed Dan. After blessing the boy, Keron returned him to his parents without further comment.

Eight more occasions Annia added a son to their family and on three occasions she gave her mate daughters. Each child was presented to Master Keron to be blessed during the giving of their tithe. Each occasion the Gifted returned the child after the blessing.

Then, for the tenth counting of children, Annia gave her mate a son. They named him Simon. As they had always done with their children, they presented Simon to Master Keron for a blessing. Master Keron took the child into his arms. For a moment he looked at the boy’s face. But, he did not bless Simon as he had done his brothers and sisters. Instead, while holding the child in his shield arm, he touched Annia on the head with his sword hand, “You are blessed above all women. For God has seen fit to use your womb, that a messenger might be brought into the world. He shall announce the Savior of man and through his words a champion shall be given.”

Keron then touched Simon on the head saying, “You are a gift of God that the Master might give a greater gift to all mankind.”

He held the child out to Dan, who reached up to take his son. But the Gifted did not immediately release the baby into his father’s arms. “This boy will follow the Way of God and when he has attained his seasons, he will desire to enter into the service of the Master on the Mount of Adoration. To you is the responsibility of preparing the boy to be a man of God of the Order of Medgag.”

Master Keron still had his hold on Simon. Dan sensed that he was to respond to the challenge. He tried to speak but all he could get out was a hoarse, “It will be done.”

With that, Keron lowered Simon into the arms of Dan.

The family of Simeon returned to their mountain. When Simon son of Dan was approaching the sixteenth season of his life, he asked his father for permission to enter the Order of Medgag. That season, at the giving of tithe offerings, the house of Dan gave double their tithe and then offered their son to the Order of Medgag of the Mount of Adoration for the service of God.

Simon was in his seventeenth season and had settled into the routine of his new position as one of the chief scribes when everything suddenly changed. A visit by elves sent the Sanctuary into a flurry of activity. After the visit, Master Keron, Head Master of the Council of Gifted, sent the three scribes into the libraries researching parchments and documents for any references to the fall of the Morning Star and the King of Kings. The scribes brought the materials to the Council who then spent endless watches in discussion of the information. All three of the young men were required to take notes of the Council meetings and would compare them after to compile an official record of each meeting. The task consumed every waking moment of the day giving them little sleep and, to their discomfort, no opportunities for worship with their brothers.

When, finally, the last meeting of the Council of Gifted was concluded and, after finishing their collaboration on the final transcript, the youthful scribes were able to attend the last light celebration in the Hall of Light.

That night, following worship, Master Keron came to Simon’s quarters. The young scribe was initially shaken by the visit. The Master was in the habit of summoning those to whom he wished to speak to his rooms in the High Tower. This night he huddled with his scribe in the corner of the small room as if he feared someone would listen in on their conversation. In almost whispered tones, he instructed Simon to leave with the next day’s first light for The City of Kings. He would be entrusted with a letter for King Crom the Younger that must be delivered orally before he was to hand the written copy into the hands of the king. Master Keron made Simon memorize the letter and required that he recite it repeatedly until he was certain the youth had the exact wording imprinted on his memory. The letter itself was concealed in a belt Simon would wear under his clothing.

The older man gave his scribe three daggers of the best steel and three bars of pure iron to use to barter for room and board at lodges along the Great Highway. He also gave him a red cloak, worn only by the Gifted. It was his own personal cloak, the Master explained. “There may come a moment when the status afforded by the garment might be useful,” said Keron. Finally, he stood before a kneeling Simon, laid hands on him and blessed him and his mission.

The master left the confused and frightened scribe to his sleep. But, Simon would get little rest that night. The thought of leaving the Sanctuary weighed heavy on his heart. Like most of the Order, Simon loved his life in the Sanctuary. It brought symmetry, order and comfort to the brothers. There was great peace within the walls. Each man knew his role and function. Most of all there was the purpose found in the daily moments of corporate worship in the Hall of Light. The Order met as a community twice a day, once after first meal and again after last meal, for a total of four to six watches of worship as a group. Many of the scribes and the Gifted augmented this worship with one or two more watches of individual personal reflection.

It was not uncommon for scribes and Gifted to go for seasons without leaving the walls of the Sanctuary. Many of the older Gifted could not even remember their last journey outside of the comfort of the Order’s domain.

Simon was on the move long before the first light of morning. He dressed in the brown clothing of the Order and packed carefully. Before leaving the Sanctuary, he made a quick stop at the kitchen where he secured enough foodstuffs to last him three days including something for first meal. The sun was not yet on the horizon when he passed through the tunnel and out of the main doors of the Sanctuary. He acquired the Great Highway at the base of the Mount by first light setting a brisk pace for himself which he maintained most of the first day. However, as first dark fell, he did not spend the evening in the comfort of a lodge as Master Keron had instructed. Instead he slipped into a camp along the side of the highway made up of fellow travelers. He kept to the perimeter of the camp. By turning the cloak inside out exposing the brown lining, he concealed his identity with the Order to any who might be curious about him. Not surprisingly, no one took much notice of the plain young traveler among them.

Simon was gone from their midst before first light and at the end of his second day he was in an encampment composed of completely different travelers, having outdistanced any who might have been in the first encampment by virtue of his quick pace.

It was now the third day of his journey and The City of Kings was in sight. He would be within the city by first dark. And indeed as the last of the sun dropped below the mountains behind him, he entered the massive gates of the capital city of the Seven Clans, making his way to the quarter which housed the local Hall of Light.

The City of Kings was renowned as the greatest of all the cities in the Land of Nod. Everything about it was grander and bigger than anything Simon had ever seen before. The main gates of the outer walls were thirty lengths of a man high, hinged to two huge pillars ten lengths wide and thicker than a man’s body. The Way of the Kings, the main street traveling from the main gate through each of the other three walls to the palace of King Crom, was the widest of the city’s streets and lined by giant statues of the ancient line of kings and warriors atop horses, weapons and shields in their hands, and dressed in armor. Many of the streets were made of stone. The myriad of courtyards where the streets intersected had fountains of running water poured from stone jars and bowels held by granite figures of youthful men and women. The homes and other buildings were constructed of the same rock as made up the castle, towers and walls.

The Order of Medgag had long ago established Halls of Light in many of the major cities and some smaller villages in the Land of Nod. Publicly, the Halls existed to educate the people on deepening their worship of The Most High. In reality their main function was to provide haven for traveling members of the Order and serve as observation posts for watching and documenting the activities of the nations of men. A team of two scribes managed each Hall. The assignment was a test of their determination and will to prepare them for the opportunity to seek the level of service known as “the Gifted.”

The scribes of the Hall of Light of The City of Kings welcomed Simon and saw to his physical needs. Before turning in, they worshipped together. While the worship service was open to anyone, no one from the city joined them. It was not uncommon for the attending scribes to worship alone. The people of King’s Mountains confined their religious practices to the celebrations of the passing of the moon and the seasonal festivals of the tithe. There was no reason to become too enamored with the God of the ancients of the Seven Clans.

Sleep came quickly, deeply for Simon.

The morning was bright and full of light. The three scribes took their first meal and spent a watch in worship. Again, by themselves as none from the city came to participate. After which, Simon sent a message to the king requesting an audience.

He decided to see a little of the city while he waited for the response from Crom. What he found outside of the Hall was a city bustling with activity. As with most of the major cities on the Great Highway, The City of Kings was a center of trade and commerce for the nations of men. Anything and everything imaginable was for trade in the stalls lining the large streets. Wheat, corn and grains from the plains, dried and salted sea creatures from the northern Blue Sea, and weapons and armor of all types produced by the clans of King’s Mountains filled the trading booths. There was even an occasional trader of gold. Disturbingly, he also discovered merchants with woodcarvings of humans and animals, decorated with jeweled stones and shiny metals.

Using small statues to enhance the atmosphere of worship had its beginnings in the regions near the Stone Mountains. The Order had studied the question of their use and determined the practice was unwarranted and dangerous. Apparently, many had not heeded the Order’s warning on the subject.

The young scribe gave these booths a wide berth. Unfortunately, the sight of the statues being bartered in King’s Mountains had taken the joy out of the morning. He decided it was best to return to the comfort of the Hall of Light.

Surprisingly, a messenger from King Crom was waiting for him in the Hall. The king, it seems, was giving a banquet, one of many, in honor of his new son, Christophe. Simon was invited to the event as a guest of the king. He thanked the messenger for the graciousness of the king’s welcome and invitation. He would indeed join the king at the celebration of his son.

With the messenger safely on his way, Simon slipped into the garden of the Hall. He passed several watches among the smell of snow flowers and meditation.

**

King Crom the Younger, king of the Seven Clans, the first son of Xavier the Pious, stood with his hands behind his back gazing down from the bank of windows in throne room of the Great Hall of the Seven Clans. Below him the courtyard was busy with his soldiers occupied with their drills and formation. Beyond, over the walls of the palace, he could see the tops of the homes in what was one of the wealthiest areas of the Land of Nod. His sigh drifted through the empty room like a cloud. There would be no court today so the nobility who usually attended could prepare for the continued banquets and other festivities to celebrate the birth of his seventh son. The morning had begun so well and now he was thrown into an uncertainty unfamiliar to the old king. Well, maybe not so old since he had shown he still had the ability to father children. So, the better word was mature king. Yes, that was it, he was a mature king. Yet that did not make his spirit any less appeased. Two events had clouded an otherwise perfect day.

The first was the spies Britt, his second son, seemed to have everywhere. The boy was far more subtle in his relationships with others among the nations of men than his father. He had developed contacts in the major cites of the land with common people such as merchants, traders and warriors. His gift for raising horses had led to a demand for his quality stock and, in return, Prince Britt had bartered in information with those who desperately sought his horses. These contacts told stories of Dark Ones moving beyond the Stone Mountains led by trolls. Those evil creatures, the long ago adversaries of humans, were again seeking to challenge men for the dominance of Creation. There was talk of a troll roaming the streets of The City of Kings, though none had actually seen him.

Trolls! How he shivered at the thought of these foul beings of Hades once again walking the land of men. Many in the Land of Nod refused to believe in these ancient foes but Crom did. He could not help it, he was destined to greatness. His father named his first son Crom after the king who had led the people of the Seven Clans into the mountains in search of God’s presence. King Xavier told his son the stories of when the trolls and the elves once fought for the throne of heaven and, following the great battle, they had been cast down onto the land of men where they continued their war by trying to align the humans with their evil rebellion. Some claimed, against evidence to the contrary, that elves and trolls were children’s stories. But Crom the Younger believed.

Master Keron of the Brotherhood of Medgag, and an old friend of the King Xavier, told a youthful Crom the stories foretelling of the rise of the trolls in the days before the water death of judgment. “Know that the battle for the souls of men was coming to a climax,” Keron was fond of saying. In his younger seasons Keron served as a scribe in the Hall of Light of The City of Kings and was a frequent visitor to the royal court. The former scribe had more than once scolded Crom because of his sparse attendance of the ceremonies of the brothers in the Hall of Light. Crom had always feared chiefly because he believed the man saw directly into his soul.

Which is why the second event of the day, the messenger coming in the name of Keron, struck such fear in the king’s heart. Did the old man know? How could he? Only a few carefully selected warriors, all of the clan of Torr, knew. And yet, he felt the old man once again looking into his very soul from high above in his mountain Sanctuary. He sent a rider inviting the Gifted sent by the Head Master to a last meal banquet to celebrate his son’s birth. He would impress the brother with his kingly piety and send him on his way to report back to Master Keron words of reassurance.

Still, he was troubled. Merran had been summoned so he could demand to know how a Gifted had managed to enter his city without word reaching the king’s ears.

From the windows of the throne room Crom could see over the walls surrounding the palace to the roofs of the homes below and as far as the outer walls. Somewhere out there was a Gifted and, if Britt’s informants were correct, trolls. He began to rub his hands together under his chin in deep thought. Looking at them, flexing his fingers, he wondered out loud, “What have I done? What have I done?”

**

The Stoner sitting casually at the end of the street leading to the Hall of Light called himself Karr. His real name was long forgotten by anyone who knew the man when his seasons were new and his life had begun. Karr never knew his mother. His father claimed she had died giving him birth but children are the cruelest of creatures and too willing to speak the truth adults avoid. According to the children who ran wild in the streets of Stone City his mother was a prostitute who had dumped her newborn infant on the door of the man she claimed was the boy’s father. Then she disappeared never to be seen again.

Karr’s father kept the child with the hope of trading him away to a house in need of a slave when he was old enough to be of value. But Karr would have none of it. When he was almost seven seasons he over heard his father discussing his fate so he ran away and hid in the alleys and back streets of the city. By stealing what he required to survive, he learned to live the life of the orphaned and adopting the name Karr because he liked the sound of it.

The street imp grew faster than his peers becoming a strong, well built man by his thirteenth season. Few took him for the youth that he was which opened the society of the adults to him and ever-increasing possibilities for acquiring what he desired. Unlike most children from the street, Karr sought wealth and position as a means to freedom, freedom from the streets and freedom from a life of poverty. His great desire was to be the master of his own destiny. For the poor there were only two paths to riches, theft and military service. Having tried the one, the youth decided to give the later a chance. His size and build made him a perfect candidate for the army. He passed almost two seasons in the service of King Set, the Stoner King, as a member of his army but soon tired of the boredom of garrison life. The seasons with the Stoner army were not wasted. Karr became quite proficient with most weapons and he discovered his true skill, that of a spy.

It all started for the Stoner when the general of Karr’s division became suspicious of his mate’s involvement with another man. He selected the young Karr for the task of spying on her with orders to kill the man once he discovered who he was. Making the task a little easier, he placed the youth in with the soldiers he used to guard his estates. Karr soon discovered that the mate of the general was indeed having an affair. The trouble was that the affair was with King Set. Weighing his options first, he decided he would be better off if he reported his findings to Set instead of the general.

So, one night he slipped into the bedchambers in the palace of the king. Waking Set, he told the startled king the whole story. Karr, of course, had taken the precaution of preparing an escape route in the event the king did not recognized the wisdom of using the young Stoner for his own purposes and it would have been necessary to kill Set. The king rewarded him for his prudence and also gave him a generous retainer for future service to the Stoner throne. The general had not faired as well, falling from his bedroom window to his death one night after apparently drinking too much wine with the king.

The Stoner king had grown to believe that Karr was his most trusted informant. However, it was not duty to King Set which brought him to King’s Mountains and now had him trailing the little scribe around The City of Kings. Karr had been in Set’s service for almost two seasons when a shadowy old man dressed all in black came to him one night in a lodge he frequented often. Upon entering a private room expecting to find his favorite girls, he found instead the wrinkled old man. The man, it seemed, represented a group of associates, who wanted to remain anonymous, but wished to take advantage of his particular skills for a very liberal fee. They wanted Karr to go to King’s Mountains to penetrate the palace of King Crom of the Seven Clans in King’s Mountains and inform them of any and every activity of the king and his family.

The assignment was more difficult than it appeared. It was one thing for the Stoner to move about Stone City in relative obscurity but his bronze skin and hair would set him apart from the mountain people and make it tough to go unnoticed in a city of colored, as the Stoners referred to anyone who did not have their bronze skin. Still Karr relished the challenge and quickly discovered that, by dressing in the plaid clothing one of the Seven Clans, he attracted less attention, even a lesser amount when he wore a hooded cloak, common in the mountains, over his head. The pride of the clansmen pursued them that he was trying to integrate into their society. They accepted him, though not as an equal. The Stoner spy gained his access with favors for the guards and officials who learned to never question their benefactor for fear of loosing a source of extra income.

The discrete surveillance of the Hall of Light of the Order of Medgag today was the direct result of a messenger of the king. Karr made a point of following messengers from the palace on a regular basis. Knowing who the king was in communication with was a source of bits and pieces of information he could string together to get a better understanding of larger issues. That the king would send a rider to the local Hall of Light was unusual. The king had a reputation in King’s Mountains for practicing his faith in the one God but Karr found little piety and a lot of wind in the king’s spiritual practices. He would observe the Hall of Light for a while and see what fruit it might produce.