The Sanctuary

Chapter Six:

The Sanctuary

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.
Medgag: The Man of God

Hidden on a neighboring peak to the Mount of Adoration Karr passed the days in a cave observing the Sanctuary of Medgag. The mountain ranges of the Land of Nod were in the period of the frozen mists. Each season the mists that watered Creation changed to snow as the higher elevations became colder covering the mountains with the white powder. For a city dweller from the warm plains of Stone City cold was uncomfortable even while the snow was pleasing to the eye. His problem was maintaining his concealment and still getting up close enough to the Sanctuary to see anything. He learned how the snow mists covered his tracks every three to four days so long as they were shallow. But frequent movement around his hiding place created deep prints in the high snow. Consequently he restricted his forays out of the cave.

Lacking the skills of a woodsman forced him to rely on the supplies he had brought with him. Several failures at hunting confirmed his deficiency in the craft. His food lasted eight days and he was at the point where he would have to give up his surveillance and return to The City of Kings when he decided to risk a late night visit inside the Sanctuary. When he was within approximation of the structure he discovered that the entire surrounding area was covered with the footprints of humans and animals. He realized that he could approach the Sanctuary without danger of leaving a trail. Once in the compound his street-wise instincts served him well in stealing food and provisions including a set of the brown clothing, mountain boots and a warm cloak worn by the scribes of the Order.

How he ate well that night and every day after. The kitchens of the Sanctuary were stocked with a variety of foods and drink by virtue of the tithes brought daily from people all over the Land of Nod. Karr’s street sense told him to restrict what he took to items not easily missed. The practice kept anyone from noticing that a thief had raided the kitchens or food stores. The Order became his sole source of provisions and he made frequent trips into the walls of the Sanctuary. Primarily for food but after a while he began to explore.

The Sanctuary on the Mount of Adoration was built of a light brown stone particular to the Asshur Mountains and mortar in the shape of a square surrounding an open courtyard. Its main entrance was a tunnel running under the west facing walls between the dinning hall and the great hall used as a banquet hall by guests of the Order. Two towers dominated the northwest and southwest corners. The High Tower on the northwest corner was the living quarters of the Head Master of the Council of the Gifted. Housed in the southwest tower were the many libraries of the Order. The southern portion of the Sanctuary was the Hall of Light. Living quarters for the members of the Order and the dwellers were built into the northern side. The eastern section was reserved as the guest quarters for the frequent visitors. With the exception of the towers, the buildings of the Sanctuary were three stories in height and covered with roofs made from tiles formed by mixing crushed rock with mortar.

There were few visitors during the period of the frozen mists since the snow made travel difficult up the small path from the Great Highway. So the guest quarters, which provided the best entry into the buildings, were nearly empty. Using the balconies outside of the rooms, Karr gained access where the darkened corridors made it easy to move about unseen simple by what few members of the Order might roam them in the late watches of the night. He enjoyed sitting in the Hall of Light. The Hall was kept fully lit all of the watches of the night for those of the Order who desired late-night worship or a place of meditation. Karr would sit in a back corner with the hood of his brown cloak covering his head just in case someone came to the Hall. It was his first experience inside a place of worship. There were moments when he imagined that he could feel the very presence of the God of the Brotherhood. His great joy, though, was walking through the library tower. He had never seen so many parchments assembled in one place before, some bound together called books and many more rolled into scrolls. There were shelves from the floors to the ceilings filled with scrolls and books. Though he knew a few words he basically could not read the tongue of men. Browsing the libraries he would gently caress the scrolls. How he wished he could read.

*******************

Simon sat on the rock under the crisp night sky gazing at the neighboring hillside. With a partial moon to his back the mountain across the valley was shrouded by the darkness. He studied the southern slope. This was the third night in a row he had come to the rock to observe the distant ridge.

There it was, he thought. It was just a flicker of a light but he was certain he had seen it.

“He lives in a cave and usually comes out in the late watches of the night,” said Herro startling the scribe so much he almost jumped out of his skin.

The former thief scooted onto the boulder next to Simon.

Surprised, Simon asked, “You have seen him?”

“I heard him first,” laughed Herro. “He was wandering the hills several days past scaring away the game. He is not much of a hunter. Hunger must have gotten the best of him because he broke into the kitchens.”

“How…?”

Herro shrugged his shoulders, “I figured someone that inept at hunting would either have to leave or risk stealing from the Sanctuary. So I hid near the likeliest place to break into the kitchens and waited. He slipped in just long enough to take a few days worth of food before sneaking back out.”

“Did…did you follow him?”

Simon could see the big grin on Herro’s face even in the reduced moonlight. The other man shook his head, “I did not need to. I sat right here and listened to him make his way back to his little cave. Like I said, he is no hunter.”

“And he has returned?”

“Oh yes. Our friend out there is not much of a woodsman but he certainly knows how to get in and out of buildings. My guess is that he is a city dweller who has somehow found himself out of his element. But why?”

“The prince…”

“Most likely. The question is whether he is a friend or a foe. Strangely enough, he occupies himself more often now with the libraries.”

“We must discover his purposes.”

******************

It was a night when Karr had no real reason to roam the Sanctuary. There were sufficient provisions in his cave to last him four or five days. These days he was a man of two minds. He felt the need to report back to the old man at King’s Mountains while his heart tugged him back to the walls of the Sanctuary. The libraries drew him into their rooms with promises of unlocking the mysteries held in their scrolls and books. While looking through the scrolls he had stumble on scrolls with illustrations allowing him to define some words. Building on the knowledge he was gathering an ever-increasing list of words he understood. Confidence mounted in him that, given sufficient opportunities; he would soon be able to actually read.

There was no reason for him to be here. Yet, here he was stealthily navigating his way through the halls connecting the guest quarters to the library tower by way of the Hall of Light. Unusual traffic in the lateness of the night caused him to hide twice avoiding members of the Order strolling the halls.

The lower level of the library tower contained the library accessible to every member of the Order, the dwellers and any guests. He skirted it to climb a small circular staircase to the third level where he would find the illustrated scrolls he was using in his quest to read. Peering around the doorjamb he verified that the room was unoccupied before he glided in over the polished wood floors. He was anxious to get to his studies. It was a big mistake.

The Stoner was in the middle of the room when he realized that he was not alone. There was a man, appearing out of the shadows of the shelves, who was now barring the main door in front of him. Another smaller man was now blocking the side entrance to his sword hand side and he could feel the presence of another person behind him. Calmly he turned thinking that he might casually walk past the man to the stairway. It was not to be. There were two men between him and the stairs. He was in big trouble.

The former street urchin of Stone City did not panic. He had been in tough situations before and had learned to get himself out of them by keeping his senses and reacting before others could act. Logic said if he wanted to run for it he should take on the man at the side door. It would be foolish to try to go through the huge man guarding the main entrance and very stupid to take on two men to get to the stairway. Do the unexpected, he thought. Surprise them.

Taking two steps backward as if he were moving away from the two men, Karr suddenly pivoted and lunged at the larger man protecting the main door. Unfortunately, the man was not fooled by his feign and was waiting for him. The giant greeted Karr with a fist to the ribs and a quick jab to the side of the head. Before he knew what had hit him, the Stoner’s feet flew out from under him and he was rolling across the floor. He tried to come up fighting but the smaller man tripped him and delivered a blow to the other side of his head with his forearm.

Three men were now on him. The bigger of the men had pulled him up and pinned his arms behind his back. The other two were delivering body blows. A quick kick took out the legs of one of his attackers sending him sprawling the floor but the other continued to punish him. Karr was winded and his knees were giving out on him. Try as he might he could not protect himself from the punches nor free himself from the grip of the big man. He thought he was about to pass out.

“Enough!”

Herro brought his fist back for another blow when Simon grabbed his arm. “That is enough,” he insisted.

Hanging in the arms of Hartgore, Karr let his knees go. He was too weak to both stand and stay conscious so he chose consciousness.

“Release him,” Simon commanded Hartgore.

When the big man turned him loose the floor came up and smacked Karr in the face.

“Who are you?” asked the young scribe staring down in the face of the bruised Stoner.

Karr pretended that he was too battered to comprehend the question but Herro was not going for it and gave him a kick in the side. “Answer the scribe, Stoner,” he demanded.

Simon gently pushed Herro away and motioned for the other two men to move back a little.

“Who are you?” he repeated. “And what are you doing here?”

“I believe that I am lost and…,” began Karr.

Simon interrupted him, “If you would like, my friends can continue where they left off. Who are you and what is your business here?”

Karr sat up and rubbed his head. He had the beginnings of a really good headache and his ribs would be sore for days. He was convinced that the scribe did not have the temperament to have him beaten any further but he also knew that the Order did not think too highly of liars. And he had long ago learned that a little truth is easier and often better than the best thought out lie.

“I am called Karr. I followed you here from The City of Kings. I was curious why you would bring a baby all this way in a very round about fashion.” He paused in hopes that the scribe might lead him in the direction he should go in presenting his limited story but the scribe waited for him to continue.

“And once I settled in here I became curious about your little castle in the mountains. So I have been exploring it.”

“Who are you spying for?” demanded Herro stepping up to give him a slight kick. To which Simon responded by pushing the other man back with a hand to his chest.

Karr laughed slightly, “To that, I really do not know. He was an old man with a lot of iron bars. He never gave me his name.”

“Liar!” burst out Herro.

“I am afraid you can beat me until I am unconscious and my answer would remain the same. I never knew what he was called. He traded me more bars of iron for my information than I thought it was worth. You do not push that kind of customer too far.”

The scribe leaned down very close into the Stoner’s face. “Why did you stay instead of returning to tell your master what you had learned?”

“Well, for one thing, he is not my master. I am a freeman. And another thing… I do not know. I have asked myself what I gained by staying out there in the cold watching a big building all day and I do not have an answer.”

Simon reached out his hand to help the Stoner to his feet. “You will stay out in the cold no more. So long as you are in these mountains you will live in the guest quarters of the Sanctuary.”

The other three men started to protest but the scribe raised his hand and turned his head to cut off their objections. “We cannot kill him and if we run him off he can always sneak back. If we allow him to stay in the Sanctuary we can keep our eyes on him.”

Turning to Karr he said, “You are free to leave whenever you desire. However, so long as you remain our guest you will have one of these men with you always.”

“It is late,” said Simon as he started for the main entrance. “We must all get some sleep.”

Just before reaching the door Simon suddenly wheeled around to face Karr, “Whether by choice or obligation we all serve a master. Freedom is an illusion.”

*******************

The noise of the crying infant woke Karr. The Stoner’s lack of comfort in living with the brothers and especially the baby’s protectors made sleep fitful at best. He feared the knife he knew would come from the men who mistrusted his presence among them. And, rightfully so, he regarded the daily life of the Sanctuary with the eyes of a spy probing for weaknesses. Of one thing he was sure, the old man would trade a substantial weight of iron bars for what he had learned in the last couple of days.

There were no guards posted on any of the entrances to the Order’s compound nor to the main road leading up from the Great Highway, let alone the smaller trails, most unknown to those outside of the Order, that run through the mountains to the east of the Sanctuary. King Crom had dispatched a unit of warriors from the Seven Clans to the base of the Mount but Head Master Keron would not permit them any further up the mountain. The Stoner’s military sense was offended by this lack of security. A lone assassin with knowledge of the buildings could easily gain access and kill the child.

Karr heard the baby cry out again. He was given a room two doors down from where the scribe lived with the baby but the boy had a good set of lungs and the sound carried. Slipping into the hall, he listened for any movement of the former thieves who now considered themselves to be the prince’s bodyguards. They were fast asleep. While the men took turns seeing to the needs of the baby during the day, they had fallen into a pattern of allowing Simon to take care of the late night needs. He opened the door to Simon’s quarter carefully and leaned his head in.

“Come on in,” whispered Simon. He was sitting on a chair feeding little Christophe.

Karr sat down on a chair just inside the door and watched the scribe with his charge by the light of a single lamp. The infant gripped the jar holding the formula in his hands and was sucking hungrily on the tip. Wrapped in a blanket, all that was exposed was the child’s head and hands.

“It is…he is just a baby,” Karr said finally.

“What were you expecting him to be?”

This was the first occasion the Stoner had to actually see the prince. Up to this point he had avoided getting close to the infant concerned that if he did the bodyguards would attack him.

“Well, I am not sure. With the city calling him ‘the Great King’ and ‘the King of Kings’ I guess I expected him to be surrounded with a glow, to say the least. I do not know…”

Simon chuckled, “Look and see. He is a human child, nothing more nothing less.”

“What about the talk of a star falling from the sky and the prophecies of the ancients? Everyone in The City of Kings seem to believe he is something more, something special,” replied Karr.

“Have you read the ancient stores of which you site?”

Embarrassed, Karr looked down at the floor. “I was never taught to read or write.”

“That can be corrected.”

The Stoner stood up and walked across the room looking down at the baby. For a moment the child stopped drinking and seemed to stare at Karr. Then, abruptly, he giggled before he resumed his meal.

Karr rushed from the room. It would be days until he would again look at the child.

*******************

The air was frosty. Snow crunched under his feet as he walked. The mists had changed to snow once again in the Asshur Mountains leaving the ground covered with a fresh white blanket piled on an arms length of earlier snows. Karr was on the side of the Mount of Adoration facing the peak where almost one season ago he had hid to observe the Order. It too was draped in a fluffy layer of snow. The barren trees held the snow like white leaves. Everywhere he looked there was whiteness. He was not sure that he could ever become acclimated to the cold or the frozen mists, though it was pleasant looking. Pulling the hood of his brown cloak over his head he wrapped the garment tighter around his body to keep in the warmth.

Word around the Sanctuary was that the royal family of King’s Mountains would be traveling to the Mount to celebrate the young prince’s birthday. He knew all of the king’s children by face from his days of spying within the palace. The queen he had gotten to know personally by virtue of her frequent visits to the Mount over the past season.

Queen Sari had come to the Mount while Karr was hiding in the cave demanding to see her son. To her surprise, the Brotherhood welcomed her into their compound allowing her to be with her child as much as she wanted. After his discovery by Simon and the mighty men, the name the scribe had given to the three former thieves, Karr met the queen on her second journey to the Sanctuary. He learned from Nephilim Hartgore that the queen was unaware, along with most of the Order, of his past trade or how he came to be among them.

Past trade, he thought, was it his past trade or was he just like the trees that shed their leaves temporarily during the moons of the frozen mists only to grow new leaves when the snows passed? It was a good question. One for which he did not have an answer.

Much to his annoyance, he was enjoying his life in the Sanctuary. For one thing, Simon the scribe was teaching him to read the tongue of men. Lacking anything else to do, he had followed the scribe into the libraries three days after he entered the Sanctuary. While the scribe was trying to study Karr looked over his shoulder and asked a few questions about what Simon was reading until the scribe could take no more interruptions. He sat the Stoner down at a table, gave him a scroll with illustrations and a scroll to read. Simon showed him the basics he needed to use the illustrated scroll to decipher the other scroll and left him to the task of learning to read. Karr found that he had a knack for reading. He even began to take scrolls back to his sleeping quarters, which he shared with the three mighty men, and read out loud to the others with Simon helping him on the difficult passages.

His relationship with the mighty men was evolving. At first they regarded him with great suspicion. Taking Simon at his word, there was always one of the three with him wherever he went. Little-by-little they became accustomed to his presence and their suspicions dwindled. Hartgore, who was adept with most types of blades, was the first to associate with the Stoner. He began to tutor Simon and Karr on the use of swords and knives. Neemus was a hunter and woodsman. He tried to make the Stoner into a hunter. While Karr picked up a few skills in the forests, he realized he would never be a hunter so he tried to at least not be a burden to the Nephilim when the two were on the hunt. The sole skeptic remained Herro. Regardless of what Karr did or said he could tell that his motives where always in question. Nephilim Herro was clear in his lack of trust in the Stoner.

Nephilim, the title was new to him. When he asked Simon about it the scribe pulled an old scroll from the library shelves and handed it to Karr. The story was very old and the author unknown. It told of the seasons before the kings when the sons of God began to cross the Euphrates River. They found the Land of Nod to be wild and untamed. Reptilian beasts ruled the land and gained a taste for the flesh of men. A man, called Daytron, made weapons of wood and stone and showed the children of Adam how to kill the reptile monsters driving them back behind the Stone Mountains. In the days of the ancients men still spoke the tongue of the elves. They gave Daytron the elfin name Nephilim, which means mighty man in the tongue of men. Simon the scribe had resurrected the name for the three former thieves to give them a new identity. They were no longer bandits and common criminals they were Nephilim.

A rustling in the bushes brought Karr out of his contemplation. Dismissing the noise as an animal, he realized that he had walked across the valley towards the neighboring peak that was once his hiding place. The last two passing of the moon the three mighty men had stopped shadowing his every movement. Especially when he was not in the Sanctuary. He should be alone except he had the feeling he was being watched. He looked back at the Mount and turning in a full circle he noticed someone standing in front of the entrance to his old cave staring in his direction. Making his way out of the tree line he identified the watcher. It was the old man from King’s Mountains.

Approaching the old man with the fresh snow crunching under his feet gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Not that he had ever felt at ease in the man’s presence. Still, this occasion his inner senses were screaming at him not to get too close.

“Well, my old friend,” waved the old man. He had what passed for a smile on his wrinkled aged face. “It is good to see you again.” He was supporting himself with a rough wooden staff. Clothed in the garb of the brothers of the Order, his lowered hood exposed long stringy black hair. Smiling through stained teeth, his eyes seemed to glow even in the light of the evening sun.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Oh, that is not as hard as you might think. When you did not return after a few days I suspected that you might have gone off in search of the young prince. I figure that curiosity of yours had gotten the best of you. And here you are,” smiled the man lifting his arms up as if inviting an embrace from his former spy.

“How very clever of you,” mocked Karr, keeping his distance.

“Now there. You sound bitter. Did you think that you were the only one with such skills?”

When the Stoner did not reply the old man continued, “So, tell me what you have learned?”

But the refugee from Stone City did not hear the question. His mind was mulling over other questions. Like what was the old man doing here in the western Asshur Mountains? He knew that the child would be brought here. By now all of the Land of Nod knew that the youngest son of King Crom was living with the Brotherhood of the Order of Medgag. It did not make sense for the old man to come all this way to retrieve information he already possessed. Why was he…?

Karr looked up into the jovial face of his old benefactor who was still talking though Karr was not listening to what he was saying. The smile invited friendship but the deep-set eyes were full of menace and danger. In a flash the Stoner understood. He looked around quickly at the ground. Seeing what he was searching for just a little ways down the tree line from where he had exited. Three, no, four sets of footprints in the new snow. There was the rustle in the bushes earlier. The old man had accomplices. He was talking with Karr to keep him here, distract him.

The old man was trying to get his attention but Karr did not pay him heed. He spun around and sprinted back into the trees. There was no need to pick up the tracks of the other men. He knew where they were going.

While running Karr considered the four men ahead of him. Once in the Sanctuary where would they go first? The sun was about to drop below the distant mountains. The members of the Order would be starting to gather in the dining hall for last meal. He glanced down at the footprints that had started to cover the prints he made previously when he walked down from the Mount. They were similar to his boot prints. They were akin to the imprint of any member of the Order. Just like the three mighty men, Karr had adapted the brown clothing of the Order. It was functional in the changing climates of the mountains and allowed him to blend in with the rest of the community. No doubt the four unknown men were wearing the same type of clothing.

He could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart, his heavy breathing and crunching of the snow under his feet. Twigs snapped and popped around his head. His arms churned in rhythm to the cadence of his feet. His chest hurt from the intake of cold air.

Rounding the library tower he entered the dining hall by way of the door off the tunnel entrance under the west section leading into the courtyard. He paused to catch his breath and gather himself. Reasoning that the four men would not know that he was aware of their presence he had the upper hand. The dining hall of the Order was a place of equality. There were no special tables set aside for the Gifted or guests. Diners sat wherever they wanted or could find seats and the food and drink were brought out by the dwellers who performed the kitchen tasks. With a quick scan he located Simon the scribe and Nephilim Herro seated at a table on the far side of the room with the prince in his specially made chair between them. Neemus and Hartgore were in the process of taking the seats across the table from them. The room was full of chatter and the sound of chairs and benches sliding in and out.

Movement on his shield hand side caught Karr’s attention. Two men walking side-by-side around the tables toward the far wall. Both men still had the hoods of their cloaks over their heads. The dining hall was warm, as it usually was even in the cold of the moons of the frozen mists, so the cloaks were unwarranted, not to mention the hoods. A glimpse to the wall on his sword hand side picked up two more hooded figures walking around the opposite way. They were going to try to attack from two directions. If he shouted a warning the room would be mass chaos and the disguised assassins might succeed and possibly escape.

He had a plan. It was not a good one but it was a plan. Following the route taken by the two men to his shield side he briskly and, he hoped, casually walked up behind the men. Two steps from the pair he drew the dagger from under his cape just as the men he was watching pulled something from their own clothing. The two would-be killers were almost close enough to strike.

“Assassins!” he screamed at the same moment he thrust the dagger into the back of the first man he reached. The attacker, taken by surprise, dropped his dagger.

Simon and Herro pivoted around rapidly enough to see the second man lunging at the prince with a knife in his hand. Simon made a half turn back toward the prince using his body to shield the boy from the blade. Herro grabbed for the dagger, though too late to prevent it from stabbing the scribe in the lower part of his back. Karr had pushed the dying man aside and swiped at the second attacker catching the side of his head with the weapon taking off part of his ear. The attacker stepped back stunned, never to recover. Herro had drawn his own dagger and rammed it into the attacker just under his ribcage piercing his heart.

When the Stoner had yelled Neemus and Hartgore, seeing the two hooded attackers, started to climb over the table. Unbeknown to them, they effectively cut off the line of attack the other two assassins were taking to the prince. The assailants stumbled over the two mighty men trying to stab at the boy in his chair. Realizing they were attacking the prince, Hartgore grabbed the man closest to him by the arm and swung him around. Pinning his foe’s arm behind his back, the muscular Nephilim put his burly forearm across the other’s forehead and jerked the head back while forcing the body forward. The intruder’s neck snapped. Neemus saw the blade in the other attacker’s hand coming around from behind him. He locked the arm under his sword arm and with his shield hand he snatched up a pitcher of water from the table, the first object he could get his hand on, thrusting it back into the assassin’s face. The pitcher shattered and the attacker screamed as clay fragments splintered into his eyes. The smaller Nephilim released his grip on the man, turned around and struck him with his open palm up under his nose sending the bone of the nose into the man’s brain. The attacker was dead before he hit the floor.

With the second assailant dead on the floor Herro turned in anger to Karr.

“You brought them here, did you not?” he shouted at the Stoner.

Karr was confused. He had just helped stop an attempt on the life of the prince but now he was being attacked. He knew that Herro mistrusted him tremendously however this was a bit much. “What are you talking about? I stopped them from killing the boy!”

“They would not have come if you had not shown them the way. Admit it. You…”

“That will suffice!” commanded Simon holding his bloody side with his sword hand.

The prince was crying and Neemus had climbed over the table to him comfort him.

“He led them here,” Herro said to Simon pointing at Karr.

Simon shook his head sadly. “Do not be absurd. Of course he did not.”

“Who else would have? His kind …he is a Stoner.”

“And you were once a thief.”

The scribe reached out his shield hand to Karr. The Stoner brought Simon’s arm around his shoulders and gently slipped his sword arm behind the scribe’s back. Together they walked to the quarters of Gifted Barton. He had studied the ways of the healers but his gender disqualified him from making claim to the title.

*******************

The old man remained where Karr had left him standing in front of the entrance to the cave watching the Sanctuary. He had seen the four assassins slip undetected into the compound. Moments later the Stoner came sprinting up the path and disappeared around the tower. He waited for some sign that his Dark Ones had completed their task but he had little hope of their success. Quietly he cursed his former spy.

“You do not belong here,” said a voice behind him. He did not need to turn around. He knew whose voice it was.

“I had to try. You should have known that I would,” he said still facing the Mount of Adoration.

“Your presence here is a violation.”

The old men swung around to see an elf standing behind him dressed in the same style clothing as a member of the Order only his garments were all white instead of brown. Under the hood was a brown face, dark hair and pointed ears.

“You and your kind amaze me. Have you not yet figured out that the laws of Creation do not interest me?”

Without speaking another word or waiting for a response from the elf, the old man walked off into the trees where he was swallowed up by the gray and white landscape.

*******************

Karr and Christophe sat on a fallen log below the Sanctuary with a book. The prince was reading. Further beyond Neemus labored with the feathers of an arrow. The Stoner had been charged by Simon with the youth’s daily reading lesson after which the hunter would instruct him in his archery lesson. Though in his seventh season, Christophe read the tongue of men better than many of the beginning scribes who came to the Mount and, as his teacher, Karr’s proficiency was constantly improving.

“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’” read the prince.

“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.”

“Do you understand what Master Medgag saw?” the prince asked Karr as he gently touched the page from which he had just read.

For a moment Karr thought about the question. “I understand the words.”

“Yes, but Master Simon always says that words mean things. What does the ancient master want his words to mean?”

Usually Karr chose the reading material for the lessons but on occasion, such as today, Simon would hand him a book or parchment the scribe expected the Stoner to use. Reluctantly, he always had his student read what the brother gave him since it invariably invoked questions in the youth’s mind and many a question proved beyond the Stoner’s ability to answer. At least, in his own mind.

“He is writing about the coming of a Great King, one who would save his people from their enemies. But I must confess that I have difficulty grasping the true nature of the man,” replied Karr.

Christophe thought for a moment, and then he said, “I have heard some of the brothers say that I am that king. Do you think I am?”

Karr kept his gaze on the distant tree line. He could feel the stare of the youth. Finally, he had to look into the boy’s eyes, “I do not think I am one who can answer that, young one. Simon or, better still, Master Keron would be far more qualified. Anyway, Nephilim Neemus waits to instruct you on your archery.”

Closing the book, Christophe handed it to the Stoner and rose to join Neemus. “I do not want to be that king.”

“Then do not,” Karr blurted out before he could catch his tongue.

“Do you think, Karr, that destiny is so easily controlled?”

The boy did not wait for his response, and a good thing, too. The former spy had no idea what to say.

The Land of Asshur

Chapter: Five

The Land of Asshur

Do not fear the unexpectant. An altered plan often produces success.
Medgag: Thoughts from the Master

They slipped through the north passage of the Stone Mountains in the darkest of the night. Their concealment was aided by a heavy mist, which kept most of the residents of Stone City in the comfort of their homes and favorite nightly establishments. The dark grayness of their armor and cloaks gave the riders the appearance of shadows moving against an unseen light. Adding to the phantom images were their gray mounts. Twenty in number and silent in purpose, they were beyond the west side of Stone City before they broke into a gallop. Had anyone witnessed their entry into the Land of Nod they would also have seen them quickly swallowed up by the night. Though none did.

*******************

Simon knew it would take him two days minimum to reach the foothills of the Asshur Mountains. The first day went by without serious incident, though Simon had the nagging sensation that someone was watching him hike across the farmland.

The plains of the Land of Asshur appeared flat at first glance. A closer inspection by one who sought to hide in them revealed a rolling, hilly countryside spotted with shallow depressions.

At home in the mountains, Simon knew how to use the characteristics of the land to mask his presence. He doubled back on his trail twice trying to alleviate the feeling of being followed. While he could not find a trace of pursuers, he was unable to shake the feeling. The scribe was beginning to think that he had been so long in the comfort of the Sanctuary that his mountain skills were diminished because of it.

With the fall of darkness he carefully used a very small brief fire to warm the food for young Christophe and he buried the soiled diapers under rock and ground. He rationed his own food choosing to only eat enough to keep up his energy level. The infant prince was an excellent baby. He slept off and on, was quiet when awake and never seemed to cry. That night they slept in a nest of rocks, the baby cradled in Simon’s arms. Despite the discomfort he kept the pack on his shoulders and the bag in easy reach.

His sleep was restless and after five watches he was of the mind that he was not going to get much more in the way of sleep. He waited until Christophe stirred for his night feeding then he began preparations to get under way. Earlier he had warmed two servings of the milk and kept one of the servings between their bodies to maintain the warmth. Planning ahead allowed him to move quicker and eliminated the need to start a fire.

By the sixth watch of the night he was on the move. Progress was slowed by the darkness. He did not want to take any false steps that might result in an injury or give away his position. There were still about four watches of the night remaining.

One watch from first light he stopped for his first meal and to feed his charge. He kept his senses tuned for distant noises and felt sure that they were not being followed. That is until he heard the hoof beats.

Initially, the sounds were faint and he thought that they were coming from a road off in the distant night. When Simon determined that they were horses, he instinctively knew they were coming in his direction. He quieted his spirit and calmed his heartbeat and breathing. Now he could feel the movement of the horses on the ground and hear the hooves against stones and packed soil. The horsemen were not on a road, they were moving up the rolling fields toward his small camp.

Grabbing his bag and the child, he started jogging in a straight line away from the sound of the approaching riders. He was now moving parallel to the mountain range that was his goal. This route would take them into the Euphrates River at its widest part. From there he would be obligated to follow the river north or south to find a crossing point. Either direction would add another day or more onto his journey and increase significantly the possibility of being caught by the king’s men. However, he had little choice at this juncture. The quickest way to put distance between them and the riders was his new priority.

Simon moved into some small rolling hills leading into the foothills of the Asshur Mountains that were on the east side of the Euphrates River. He judged the terrain too hilly for most farmers to consider worthwhile farming. He hoped this course would minimize the chances of coming into contact with anyone else.

At first light, he was in the foothills and making good progress. He could still hear the faint sound of the horses behind him. They were about where he had camped the night. There could be little doubt that they were trying to overtake someone. He changed his direction to a more northerly one. The hills were a little rougher looking and he hoped it would make it more difficult for them if they were pursuing him. With first light he could now see the riders, some twenty or more in number. After working his way up a small crest, he turned to get a better look at them. A shiver shook him. They were dressed completely in gray clothing and armor and were mounted on gray horses. King Crom’s men they were not!

He descended the other side of the crest into a depression. Before he could start up the next incline he realized that he was not alone. Above him on a rise stood a man, hands on his hips looking down on him smiling.

“Good first light to you, my fine young man,” he said with the smile still in place. And why not smile, on both sides of him were lightly armored men with drawn swords. “How might we be of service?”

*******************

Mars drove his men all day without compassion. If a troll could force ride in the mid-day warmth with a hood on his head to mask his features, then these humans should have no problems keeping the pace.

He had led the riders over the Great Highway from Stone City almost to The City of Kings. Within sight of King’s Mountains he turned north off the Highway until they met up again with the Great Highway on its northward route to the Tri-Cities. They crossed over the Highway onto the plains of Asshur.

Just before last light Mars allowed his men to rest. Four watches into the night they mounted and continued across the farmlands of the plains of Asshur heading north. Their horses trampled fields and knocked down fences but, not surprisingly, none of the farmers made any effort to stop them or extract payment for the damages. It was at first light that one of the men called out the warning. Mars halted the unit.

Advancing a little ways ahead of his men, he scanned the horizon for a glimpse of what his man had seen. A head bobbed over a hill then disappeared. He called for a dismounted rest. Moving off from his men he scaled an incline for a better look. He saw the head again further away. There was no doubt in his mind that someone was trying to get away from him and his men. This was not surprising except that the general reaction of the farm people had been to hide in their homes, barns or wherever they could find cover until his riders passed. Now this one was running away. Most curious, he thought.

His orders were to make the best possible speed to Hammer’s Bridge where they were to intercept a scribe of the Order Medgag traveling alone with an infant. The child was not to be harmed at any costs. Zeus wanted the man too but Mars was not to risk the infant or his mission just to capture the man. And, he was especially warned, the scribe was not to escape alive. The warning angered him but he had suppressed the instinct to react, a very untroll-like response.

The troll flexed his muscular frame as he thought over the situation. Even among the dark beings, Mars possessed an enormous body, far more massive than any but Zeus, the reigning prince of the Dark Lands. Though many in the dark realm would dispute the assertion, Mars considered himself the second most powerful of the trolls. Except Mars had visions of greater grandeur. He wanted more power, power over all including Zeus. There was no interest on his part to maintain his status and he saw the current events developing in the lands of the humans as an opportunity. He would without a doubt fetch the little urchin who fled King’s Mountains with the son of the human king but turning them over to Zeus was another matter. His destiny was at hand and the troll intended to take it by the throat.

His hunter’s instinct told him that this running figure was his prey. His quandary was failure and the price he would pay if he did not locate the child. Should he continue on to the bridge or take off after this runner. His concern was that he had unwittingly and prematurely flushed his quarry. When this one reaches the river, will he take it to the north looking for a place to cross or head south? Mars knew that the sole northern crossing was Hammer’s Bridge. The river ran too rapidly to attempt a crossing anywhere else.

It would not take long to run this rabbit to ground. If this was not his quarry, then he could move on to the bridge. But if it was his man, then he will have saved himself the trouble of going all the way to the bridge and also not risk his prey going south on him.

The decision made, he returned to his men. “Captain,” he shouted, “mount your men. We are heading into the hills.”

********************

They had him completely surrounded. Simon glanced over his shoulder to see more men clothed in a variety of the garb of the nations of men coming around behind him. His brain was working furiously but he saw no possible escape from the trap he had walked into. Instinctively, he pulled the baby closer to his chest.

“As I said, my fine young traveler, how might we be of service?” repeated the apparent leader.

“Well,” said Simon slowly, “you could start by sheathing those swords.”

“Ah, well now, how do we know that you are not one of King Crom’s spies trying to catch us with our guards down?” he retorted.

“I guess you have me there,” smiled Simon. “I am using this infant as my cover so I can walk around drawing bandits into attacking me just to get them out of their hiding places. Then I will capture them and take them single handedly back to King’s Mountains for a handsome reward.”

Laughing, the man turned from side to side, “There you have it lads, we have been trapped. Seems we have no choice but to surrender.”

The joke brought laughter from the others.

He gave a signal to his men behind Simon. The scribe could hear some of them moving away. The leader jumped down from his lofty position to place himself face-to-face with Simon.

“Which brings up an interesting question,” he said looking into the young scribes eyes. “What are you doing out here all alone with a baby in your arms? Maybe you could answer that little curiosity for me.”

Now how do I satisfy his question without breaking my discipline of faith, wondered Simon?

He decided to take his best shot. “This child is under my protection. I have been charged to deliver him to the Order of Medgag on the Mount of Adoration.”

At the mention of the Order of Medgag and the Mount of Adoration the brown clad leader stepped back as if Simon had told him he was ravaged by an illness.

The leader was wary now, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t look like a Gifted, my young friend. Are you a Gifted?” A slight smile crossed his lips with the question.

“No, I am merely performing a service for the Order.”

“Hmm, sounds quite noble. What reward would one expect for such an honorable deed?”

“I am not doing this to gain riches. Wealth is no concern of mine in this matter. However, I am afraid the Order of Medgag does not deal with those acting contrary to the Way of God. So I see little in this for you.”

The leader of the bandits put his hand on his heart. “Oh, you wound me. Do I look like the kind of man who thinks of nothing but the gain of wealth?” With that his men broke into loud laughter.

“I am sorry if my words were harsh. I must tell you though that I do not have much of anything of worth to steal, a few bars of iron and a couple of daggers. You may search my luggage if you do not believe me.”

“I am Herro of the tribe of Gil, I do not rob from women and children. As far as I can see, you are nothing but a little lost boy,” responded Herro. His tone had changed to anger and Simon realized that he had insulted the man.

He tried to recover the situation. “Again, I am sorry for my words but you must admit this looks very much like a robbery,” he said pointing at the swords in the hands of Herro’s men.

Herro waved his hand and the men put away their weapons. “There, you see,” he said showing his empty hands palms up, “no robbery.”

Herro looked into the blanket at the face of the child and up into Simon’s. “What I am wondering about is why so fierce an evil, like these dark riders, would want with a lost boy and his little baby? Maybe you could enlighten me on that little point?”

Simon bit back the fear. He forced his face to show nothing but calm. Unfortunately, his voice betrayed his concern. “What do you mean?” his crackling voice asked.

“Well, youngster,” Herro continued his demeaning tone, “we have been watching some shadowy riders coming up behind you over the low land plains. They were taking the same route across country to Hammer’s Bridge as you until just a few moments ago. They appear to have switched direction and are now close behind you.”

Before Simon could respond, he was interrupted by a commotion behind him. He swiveled around to see what Herro was looking at. One of the men Herro had sent back to check on the riders made several jesters with his hands. Herro swung around to the men still on his former perch and motioned with his hand. They quickly disappeared.

“Come, young one. We must become one with the hills or you will be having a most unpleasant confrontation with those riders of whom I spoke,” he said pulling on Simon’s sleeve.

**********************

Mars and his riders reached the small rolling hills where he had last seen the man drop below the horizon. He rode up on a small incline that gave him an unobstructed view of the surrounding hills. The running figure had completely vanished. He reined his horse around in a circle and removed the hood from his head, scanning for any signs of movement. He saw nothing, no one. The troll slapped his saddle and muttered a curse under his breath.

Somehow that little creature had managed to either conceal himself or he had grown wings and flew away. Hatred for the human burned in his inner being. If this was his prey, the man would not survive their first encounter, he swore. He pulled the hood back over his head. He waited on the top of the crest for half a watch, his eyes looking for any movement.

Finally, he conceded that he had lost this one. The mountains of Asshur on this side of the Euphrates River were too rough for horsemen. It would be difficult to continue west and still reach Rivers Run by last light. As such, he had no choice but to continue on to Hammer’s Bridge. He rode back to his men and without comment, he spurred his mount north back in the direction of the river crossing at the bridge.

******************

From his hiding place, Simon heard the horses ride off into the distance. He waited with Christophe held closely to his chest praying that the infant would not cry. The bandits were whispering to each other but Simon would have to move his head to hear them and he did not want to chance disturbing Christophe. So intent was he to listen for any clue as to what the horsemen might do that nearly jumped out of his skin when Herro tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“The coast is clear, my friend,” he said in a low voice. “It would be prudent for us to put some distance between your pursuers and this place. Just in case they double back to look for you.”

Simon stood up and looked around. Everywhere there were men appearing from seemingly nowhere heading off to the west in the direction of the Mountains of Asshur. He determined that he was safer in the company of these men for now. So, he followed after them.

The band climbed into the mountains. Simon was sure these men were no strangers to the hills. They picked their way from one-foot trail to another, always traveling west. As a son of the mountains, he admired their ability to find the shortest but easiest paths up through the mountains. At the high sun, they stopped to eat mid-day meal.

Simon took care of Christophe’s needs before he allowed himself a few bites from his provisions. He was concerned about the quantity of his supplies now that he had added at least a full day onto his journey to Rivers Run. And there was no telling how long it would take him to get across Hammer’s Bridge. He would have to wait until it was safe to cross. He was convinced that the riders were looking for him and somehow they knew he was going to cross over the Euphrates at the bridge. How this was possible since only he and Master Keron knew his plan?

Deep in thought and with Christophe asleep, he did not notice Herro sit down beside him until the man spoke. “You have the air of a man with a large burden on your shoulders.”

“To say the least,” he responded. “Those dark riders have complicated my mission.”

“They are probably heading straight for Hammer’s Bridge to wait on you to try to cross.”

Simon shot Herro a quick glance, and then regretted the reaction. “You seem to know my business as well as I do myself.”

“That is not as difficult as you may imagine. What I do not think you are aware of is that the leader of those chasing you is a troll,” said Herro.

“Oh my,” breathed Simon. “Oh my,” he said again. He was at a loss for words.

“’Oh my’ indeed,” echoed Herro. “It is the occasion to be frank, young one. I am guessing that you are on the run from King Crom and these dark riders are not necessarily an unexpected development.” Simon tried to interrupt but Herro held up a hand cutting him off and continued, “You were attempting to cross the river at Hammer’s Bridge but the Dark Ones are going to beat you to the bridge and make that plan almost impossible. You could follow the river south and cross at Crom’s Point but, no doubt, the king will already have his warriors guarding that bridge on the alert for you.”

“I could wait out the dark riders at Hammer’s Bridge. If I stay…”

Herro interrupted his thought, “The mountains around the bridge are very dangerous. Bandits and thieves roam them freely. The only safe place to be at night is Rivers Run. King Cleaus does well keeping the streets safe but he can do little outside of the walls of his city.”

He is leading me somewhere, Simon thought. “What would you suggest I do?” he asked.

“There is a way for you to cross the river. It is reasonably safe and it will cut days off your travel to the Mount of Adoration,” said the brown clad man.

“Why?” asked Simon.

“Because, for one thing it is the more direct…” Herro started to say but it was Simon’s turn to interrupt shaking his head from side-to-side.

“No. Why are you offering to help me? What is your price?” he asked looking the other man straight in the eyes.

“We have heard there is panic coming down from King’s Mountains. I know who the child is. Or what he might one day be. The tale of the star has made it to the plains of Asshur.” Herro stood and placed himself in front of Simon and Christophe. He drew his sword and knelt on one knee, driving the point of the sword into the ground. “As you are my witness, I pledge myself to the service of this king.”

The man’s face was full of sincerity. Simon could think of a thousand reasons not to trust him. But something inside of him told him differently. He reached out and touched the blade of the sword. “On behalf of my charge, I accept your service.”

Herro’s band along with Simon and Christophe kept traveling across the mountains beyond last light. At the end of the first watch of the night Herro called a halt. “We will camp here for the night,” he announced.

As had become his habit, Simon saw first to feeding and changing the infant. He played and talked to the child for a long while until Christophe finally fell asleep. It was only then that he took his last meal. He ate sparingly. He was still not sure how much faith he could put in Herro’s word or his ability to cross the river. So, he was determined to stretch his supplies for as long as he could.

The Euphrates River was the widest, deepest and fastest moving of the four rivers in the Land of Nod. The river starts its southward voyage through the land from its Blue Sea inlet by the Tri-Cities. It takes over the waters of the Tigris River just before Hammer’s Bridge increasing also in the rapidity of the currents as it travels down the valleys of the Mountains of Asshur. Just before entering the Forests of Eden it collects the combined waters from the Gihon River and Pishon River at Seth Fork. The river widens even further as it passes through the forests but slows its pace. The Euphrates leaves the forest for the desert where it disappears into the vast wasteland beyond the known territory.

From their campsite Simon could hear the rushing waters of the river but could not see them in the darkness. Of one thing he was sure, they were far above the river. Herro and his men left Simon and Christophe alone. He could hear the men off in the darkness laughing quietly at each other’s jokes. Herro had ordered that no fires be built tonight and a quarter of the men would stand each watch. Simon felt semi-secure for the first occasion since leaving the City of King’s. He drifted off to sleep listening to the sounds of the river below him and reciting the works of Medgag.

It was still dark when Christophe’s stirrings woke him. He lay still for a moment listening to his surroundings. He could hear the river and the movements of some of Herro’s men. They appeared to be breaking camp and eating first meal. Confident that all was well, he changed the baby, made a small-concealed fire to warm the formula and fed Christophe. The child lay in his blanket chatting to himself while Simon took care of his own personal needs and ate his own first meal.

Herro approached him as he was finishing the last bites. The brown clad leader tossed him some dried meat. “Eat hardy, lad. This day will be a long one and you will need your strength,” he said sitting down beside the scribe.

Simon gratefully accepted the extra food. His morning ration left his stomach asking for more. He chewed in silence for a while until Herro spoke.

“I will go with you today.” It was a statement and not a question. “Two of my men, Hartgore and Neemus have asked to accompany us. They are good men. I highly recommend them to your service.”

“Why do they want to come with me?” asked Simon with an emphasis on the “me.”

Herro ignored the emphasized pronoun saying, “They want to serve the prince as do I and as you are so faithfully doing.”

When Simon did not reply he added, “It will be a long three or four day’s travel from the other side of the river to the Mount of Adoration. There are still dangers along the way. You could use the help and the prince could use the protection.”

“Then I see great value in their service,” Simon said conceding the point.

By first light the small company was on their way. They descended the hill where they had camped for about a watch when Herro proclaimed that they were at the crossing point. Simon looked around perplexed. There was no bridge of any kind and they were still too high up in the hills to use a boat. The waters of the river were twenty or thirty lengths below them. Cautiously leaning over the edge, the youthful scribe could see the agitated waters of the Euphrates rushing over the rocky bed of the river churning into frothy rapids.

“Herro, I do not see how you expect us to get to the other side without a bridge,” said Simon.

Herro smiled at him, “We do not need a bridge, my friend. We have Herro’s Cord.”

Simon followed Herro’s gaze. A large rope was stretched across the river a few lengths from them. It was tied at parallel heights to giant trees on both sides of the river. The cord dipped slightly in the center. Suddenly, he had a very bad feeling about this day.

“It is simple, you push off and build speed going toward the middle so that the momentum will carry you up the other side. You will just slide across the river,” Herro said, confirming all of the scribe’s worse fears. “There is nothing to it.”

A huge man introduced to Simon as Hartgore was the first to travel the rope. He had a strap of leather with a pocket in the middle. In the pocket he placed a smooth flat stone coated liberally with animal fat. The stone pocket was balanced on the rope and he held the ends of the strap. The rope could be heard singing as Hartgore sailed down the one end of the rope and up the other over the river. He used his outstretched feet to absorb the impact and stop on the tree limb at the far side.

“You see, no problem,” laughed Herro. “However, it would be best if I took the young one with me. You will need all of your concentration.”

Simon wanted to protest. He did not like the idea of entrusting Christophe with anyone else. But as he watched Neemus follow his comrade over the rope, he was forced to admit that he had his doubt about whether or not he could live through this adventure let-alone protect the boy. Reluctantly he handed the baby to Herro. Two men had his strap ready. In his case it was decided to tie the straps to his wrists for extra security.

The scribe was about to ask Herro if there was not perhaps another way to ford the river when he received a gentle push by the two men. The next few moments were shear fright and all that he saw was the tree rushing at him. He could also hear someone screaming at the top of his lungs and realized that it was he. Then the tree was almost on him. Two sets of strong arms reached out and grabbed him before he smacked into the trunk. They untied his wrists and lowered him to the ground.

Once on the ground, Simon’s knees failed him and he was forced to sit down on the grass before he fell. He could see Herro in the distance coming over the rope with a bundle over his shoulders. The bandit leader smoothly slowed and stopped himself with his feet.

“So you see,” he said landing at the side of the white flush-faced scribe, “nothing to it. Nothing to it at all.”

******************

Hidden on a mountaintop above the river with a view of Herro’s Cord Karr watched the four men cross the river. He could not help but smile at the screams of the young scribe as he careened over the line. It was strange, he thought, that these obvious thieves with a chance to capture and hold for ransom a prince of King’s Mountains would have opted for helping the scribe escape safely with the child. They could have received any price in trade for the baby either from King Crom, at Rivers Run or the Dark Ones that had nearly captured him the previous day. Why had they helped the scribe?

In the early morning the day after Simon had fled The City of Kings, Karr had picked up the scribe’s trail where he had left the Great Highway and had followed at a discrete distance.

On the second day he, too, had heard the Dark Ones riding across the plains. There was another curiosity. How had the dark riders back there on the plains of Asshur known where to find the scribe and his charge? The troll leading them had to have come from the east. Karr was confident that only he and the old man had knowledge of the scribe’s escape route. There was no way the old man could have gotten word by way of a rider to Stone City or beyond quick enough to have allowed the troll and his Dark Ones to covered that much territory that rapidly. At least no way humanly possible. There was a troubling thought.

Something about this child and this whole affair was pulling the Stoner to follow. This was not like him, he thought adjusting his shoulder pack and cautiously starting down the mountain toward Herro’s Cord. Where was his profit in all of this? It was not like him at all.

*******************

There were still several watches before last light when Mars and his riders reached Rivers Run. The city was known for its gigantic walls, the highest in all the Land of Nod. Huge stones and been quarried to make them thirty lengths high. A tower fifty lengths in height guarded each corner and two more pairs of towers protected the main gates on the north and south walls. The people of Rivers Run took pride in the knowledge that no army had ever taken the city by force and never would.

Mars immediately sent six of his men to the bridge to watch for the man and child. All of his remaining men, except his captain, were dispatched throughout the city to search for any traces of the two.

Hammer’s Bridge was built by Micah the Woodsman. The story says that Micah crossed the Euphrates River in search of a mate. He found her in the clan of Medan of the Seven Clans of King’s Mountains and took her to his home in the Asshur Mountains.

When his new bride fell into homesickness, Micah constructed a wooden bridge spanning the river so that his love could return home to her clan whenever she wanted. Over the seasons to follow the bridge was expanded to accommodate horses and wagons. The people of the small village of Rivers Run called him Micah the Hammer. Eventually the bridge took on the name Hammer’s Bridge after its maker.

The tribe of Micah grew and prospered on their side of the river. They traded lumber and stone to the people of Rivers Run to build their city in exchange for the goods and services of Rivers Run. So long as the people of Rivers Run stayed on their side of the river, peace ruled. But trouble brewed when Rivers Runners tried to build homes on the north side of the river. Warriors from the tribe of Micah came down from their mountains to chase the intruders back to the south side of the bridge burning anything left behind by the fleeing people.

Rivers Run learned its lesson. Peaceful relations with the mountain men of the Asshur Mountains allowed the city to profit from its location on the Great Highway between the Tri-Cities and The City of Kings. It increased in size and power. The people of Rivers Run made themselves a king to rule over and protect them and their wealth. The king built walls around the city and raised an army to defend the city and the bridge. However, no matter how powerful they became, the people of Rivers Run kept to their side of the river.

Mars spent two days hidden away in the room at the lodge the human captain of his squad had rented, drinking wine and pacing. His men prowled the entire city attuned for any signs or clues to the whereabouts of the man and a male child. His instructions to spread the word of a reward for the capture of the couple in the seedier quarters of the city resulted in the death of six men who had the bad fortune of carrying infant boys in the streets. The deaths were of no concern to the troll. Willing, as he was, to cause a thousand, thousand deaths to accomplish his mission.

He hurled his mug of wine against the wall in disgust. He was sure that if his prey had entered the city, he would have been flushed out by now. If he had been foolish enough to try to wait him out in the mountains, he would surely be dead and the child a part of some bandit household.

No, somehow he had managed to evade Mars and his men. The troll would stay two more days in the city on the off chance that the scribe was still hiding in the city. Then he would return to the City of Pillars. But, he was convinced that he had failed in his mission and dreaded the thought of telling Zeus. He cursed the air.

*******************

Trekking through the mountains was not an easy task for Karr. He was a child of the streets of Stone City and accustomed to the ways of the city. Out here in the open he was uncomfortable and uneasy. To his good fortune the four men were not as focused on where they had been as much as they were on where they were going. By shear chance he had managed to stay far enough behind them that he was not detected. Twice the first day one of the men backtracked to check their trail for anyone who might be tracking them but by the middle of the second day they seemed unconcerned with what lay behind and he was able to follow more closely. What were the most difficult were the nights. When his quarry stopped for the night they were able to make a small fire to cook food and to take away the evening chill. He could not for fear of being spotted. This city boy from the plains of Stone Mountains was not accustomed to the cool mountain air. He rolled himself in his cape at night and froze.

His fourth day in the mountains brought relief. On a distant mountain peak he could see the outline of what he believed to be the Sanctuary of the Order of Medgag. He allowed the four men to put a half-day’s travel between them and he made camp under a rock overhang where he made a fire and cooked a warm meal. He knew their destination and the light snow covering on the mountains made tracking the small party fairly easy. Under the shelter of his stone roof he sat by his fire and allowed the warmth to penetrate his body. He really had no idea what he expected to do once he confirmed that the scribe had safely reached the Mount with the baby prince.

He lay by his campfire wrapped in his cloak and looking up at the stars until he fell asleep. What, indeed, was this child of the streets doing in the mountains?

The Search

Chapter Four:

The Search

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

The night of celebration soon became one of grief.

The king was absent too long from the banquet so, Queen Sari sought him out. She found him where Simon had left him in the chamber sitting in his chair, brooding, his face buried in his hands. His queen knew instantly that something was very wrong.

Merran and the king’s personal guards stood by the door. Their faces reflected a concern for their king and a helplessness of what to do for him.

She knelt at his feet whispering softly while trying to pry the story from him. His initial reluctance eventually gave way and the night’s events spilled out. At the conclusion of the telling, Sari fell back onto the floor as if pushed by some unseen hand. She covered her mouth with both hands. “No,” barely escaped her suddenly dry throat.

“What could I do? What have I done?” Crom asked of no one in particular.

The loss of his son had been traumatic but the sight of his mate so devastated by his actions was more than he could handle. Fury consumed him, replacing the sorrow. He practically leaped from the chair.

“Merran,” he shouted as though the noble warrior was in another room, “assemble a squad of your best warriors. We are going to retrieve my son.”

The warrior took a moment to recover from the abrupt change in his king. “As…as you command,” he responded rushing out of the door and down the hall to the banquet hall. In his mind he was already forming a list of the men he wanted for his squad. The celebration had continued despite the absence of the royal couple.

Two of the warriors he wanted were sitting at the royal table. Placing a hand on each shoulder, he leaned in between them and whispered, “Bring horse, sword and light armor to the main courtyard immediately.”

They did not hesitate. Both rose from the table and left the hall.

Merran moved down the length of the table and caught the eye of another warrior on his mental list. He pointed to the warrior and the two sitting with him at his table then motioned them to leave by the door at the back of the hall. That warrior tapped his companions on the back and the three started for the back of the banquet hall.

The noble warrior scanned the hall. He located another of his choices at a table in the rear. Crossing the room toward that warrior he passed two that were not on his list but were fitting for the task. He touched both on the shoulder, gesturing them to follow him. By now the three had reached the other warrior, he was aware that something was happening and joined Merran’s small unit. Merran met up with the other three warriors in the back of the hall. Noble Merran gave them the same instructions he had given the first two men.

Leaving the men to their duty, he returned to the king’s chamber where he found the king with a sword strapped to his hip. He accompanied Crom into the courtyard. His warriors had ten horses saddled and each was dressed in light armor and sword. Merran’s armor bearer with his horse and the horse of his noble warrior was also with the warriors. He strapped a sword on the noble warrior’s waist.

King and warriors mounted without a word spoken. The eleven left the palace at full gallop. Alert guards scrambled to open the gates before the horses rammed into them.

It was the fifth watch of the night so the streets were mostly empty of pedestrians. A good thing since the king forced his horse with an almost reckless abandoned. The echoes of the horse hooves on the stone streets bounced off the buildings and up the street as a warning to any and all to make way as these warriors were in haste.

At the door to the Hall of Light, Merran directed two warriors to each side of the walls of the building to cover any exits. The four remaining warriors accompanied the king and Merran through the main entrance without announcing themselves while Merran’s armor bearer tended to the horses.

Bursting into the Hall was a most irregular behavior even for a king. They found the scribes in the place of worship performing the Remembrance of Soil and Water. The two members of the Order had dedicated themselves to a watch of worship and prayer for their brother scribe and his mission. They were the only ones in the room built to accommodate two hundred worshippers. All of the oil lamps lining the walls were lit. The smooth white stone walls seemed to absorb the light then reflect it back. The effect was to give the room a light as bright as mid-day.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence at the sight of the king and his warriors storming with swords drawn. The scribes were in mid-ceremony, one about to pour water from a pitcher over the hands of the second as they recited the words of Medgag. They both stared to the intruders.

“I have come for my son,” growled Crom, breaking the silence.

“Your son is not here,” responded the scribe holding the pitcher of water in his hand. “Your presence in this honored hall with drawn weapons is an insult to God.”

Even though the king knew the scribe was right, he would not readily concede the point. “So is the kidnapping of an innocent child.”

“Did you not give up the child of your own free will?” The question was more of a statement and angered the king. Knowing the scribe was right intensified his anger.

Crom’s face was red with rage, “I was told my son’s life was in danger…”

“You knew our brother’s words spoke of truth,” replied the second scribe. “Long, now, you have permitted evil into the realm of the Seven Clans, for there is profit in doing so...”

“…By your own actions, you have brought on the danger,” finished the first scribe.

“Search everywhere,” the king commanded his warriors.

The king stood his ground in the place of worship facing the two scribes with his hands on his hips. He was doing his best to tower over them. Crom was accustomed to exerting his authority on King’s Mountains but members of the Order of Medgag answered to no king in the land of men. However, the king knew their disciplines of faith did not permit them to lie or deceive anyone. He was about to test those disciplines.

“Where has the young scribe gone with my son?” he asked with all the authority he could put into his words.

“We do not know, King Crom of the Seven Clans,” responded the scribe as formally as he could. He carefully set the water pitcher down.

Crom turned his attention to the second scribe.

The scribe slowly shook his head. “He told us he was going to an audience with the k…with you and that he would leave directly after he returned from your palace. He gave us instructions on what to prepare for him. Indeed, when he came back he had a child and he left immediately. We do not know by what road or direction he plans to travel. He did not tell us so we would not be obligated to tell anyone who might ask.”

Simon had told his brother scribes to tell all they knew quickly if the king had a change of heart and came looking for the child but to hold back the information about the hidden tunnel. His hope was that Crom would assume the scribes did not know anymore and would leave to pursue him by the most direct and likely route. Medgag wrote that, “kings always believe they must act in every situation resulting in rashness of action and shallowness of thought.” He was confident that Crom would assume he had taken the fastest, most direct roads back to the Mount of Adoration.

Merran and the other warriors were back. A shake of his head told the king what he already feared. His son was gone.

Without another word he stomped out of the place of worship with his warriors trailing behind. Outside of the Hall of Light he sent the warriors and Merran’s armor bearer off. “Check all of the gates. Find out which one he used to leave the city. I want warriors ready to track them down.”

Warriors rode off in different directions anxious to be the one to track down the scribe’s escape route. Merran and the king walked their horses back to the palace.

**

The Stoner spy kept in the shadows of the side street with his hood over his head. To anyone passing by, he appeared a beggar. Though he was out of sight of the king and his warrior aide, he was near enough to pick up bits and pieces of the conversation between the two men. He learned the man he assumed was a Gifted was wanted by the king yet had somehow eluded him. After the two nobles strolled away with their horses in tow Karr made his way back to the palace. He spent the rest of the night attempting to discover the man’s true identity and why the king was in such a hurry to find him. He suspected that he would have much to report to the wrinkled old man when next he summoned him.

Within a watch Karr knew the whole story of the disappearance of the baby prince. What details he did not learn from the gossip around the palace grounds he put together from the events outside of the Hall of Light. The infant prince had been spirited out of the royal suites and into the Hall by a young scribe dressed in the cloak of a Gifted. Somehow the scribe had managed to slip through the gates of the city and vanish into the night without any of the city’s guards seeing him or the baby.

The Stoner sat over a drink in his favorite tavern as first light threatened the city’s horizon thinking about the night’s events and what he should do with what he knew. It would surprise his elderly patron to know that the wealth he traded for the information brought by Karr was not the real motivation for the younger man’s espionage efforts. The reason Karr practiced the trade of a spy was because it afforded him freedom. Freedom allowed him to escape the streets of Stone City and the monotonous life of a common soldier. The iron bars gave him the freedom to go where he chose and do what he desired. The question was what he should do with the knowledge he now possessed? What could it do for him? At face value, there appeared little to further his own goals. He was amused when a messenger tracked him down with the expected summons.

Sitting a while longer in the tavern, he continued to give the subject of what to do with the information considerable thought before finally making his way to the house of the old man. It occurred to him that even after several passing of the moon he had no idea what the man was called. The one thing he did know was the man did not care for light. On every occasion he had met with his patron it was either at night on a dark street or, as in the case tonight, in a dimly lit room. A single oil lamp was the sole source of light in the small room. The old man sat on the only chair in the room placed on the opposite wall of the lamp. He always appeared feeble and gave the impression of being just barely on this side of Creation. Karr was sure the whole atmosphere surrounding the man was staged for his benefit but the point of the exercise escaped his comprehension.

“The infant prince is gone,” Karr said immediately upon entering the room. His delivery was purposeful. He wanted to gauge the other’s response. There was a brief flash of surprise and anger in the old man’s eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. The Stoner knew that the old man had his hand on the pulse of the city but his reaction to the news told Karr that, until now, he did not know why the palace was in an uproar. It was always a sense of satisfaction when he had information the old man did not possess.

“Where is he?” requested the old man calmly.

“Do you want the facts or my best guess?”

“I have learned, my young friend,” chuckled the old one, “that your guesses are usually better than the most solid facts of others.”

Ignoring the flattery the Stoner continued, “I believe the baby prince was taken by a scribe of the Order of Medgag. Apparently the king was persuaded to give the child into the Order’s protective custody but later changed his mind. Unfortunately for the king, the scribe and the infant have disappeared from the city. My speculation is that the scribe will attempt to take the prince to the Mount of Adoration and the safety of the Order’s Sanctuary.”

The old man shook his head in disappointment, “He will not get very far if the king wants to return the child to the mountain palace. The old king will alert his soldiers who guard Crom’s Point and they will capture them and bring them back to the palace.”

“Yes,” smiled Karr, “if the scribe is foolish enough to take the direct route and travel the Great Highway. Crom will assume such a course of action. It is what he would do and he tends to think that everyone should think as he does. But I would wager a good horse that this young scribe is not so dumb.”

“What do you mean,” the old man asked cocking his head slightly and looking at the Stoner out of the sides of his eyes.

Karr tried to act casual but inside he felt a pride in thinking ahead of the old man. There was a certain pleasure in reaching a conclusion before anyone else. “If I were the scribe I would go north to Rivers Run and cross at Hammer’s Bridge. It is no secret that Crom and King Cleaus of Rivers Run do not exactly see eye-to-eye these days. There is little chance that Cleaus would allow warriors from King’s Mountains to search his city at will. And once the scribe crosses the bridge he would be out of the reach of even Cleaus. The Rivers Run king would not dare send troops to the other side of the bridge and into the Asshur Mountains. The northern mountain people would not permit such an incursion.”

The old man laughed with glee. “You have done well, my young spy, very well indeed. I have doubled your usual payment,” he said tossing Karr a bag. “Keep your eyes and ears open for reaction by the king of the Seven Clans. Report to me any movement by the palace.”

Karr slid the bag under his belt as he left the room. Pride would keep him from looking into the bag until he put some distance between himself and the house. Though he was confident from the feel of the pouch that the old man had given him four of the finest quality iron bars of King’s Mountains. But he was far more interested in why the old man would want him to stay in the city instead of pursuing the scribe and his charge.

It was later in his rooms at a lodge located in the seedier section of the city that Karr paused to reflect on the night’s accomplishments. He was haunted by the puzzle he could not put together. He had been in the city the night the star appeared in the sky at the watch of the birth of the prince and had heard all the stories speculating on the child’s destiny as some great king. But what would the Order want with a baby? Everyone knew the Order had long since divorced themselves from the rest of the nations of men proclaiming that they would give their alliance to no human king. So, what would they want with a would-be child-king? And why did his benefactor not send him on the hunt for the child. The suspicious Stoner did not like questions he could not answer.

After brooding over the whole matter for a watch he made a decision. Hastily packing a few belongings and a bag iron bars, putting on his light armor, a sword and a dark cloak, he slipped out the window and into the night.

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.