The King has chosen a new steward to rule over the Faithful in Havenwold, and David has much to learn while he awaits his appointed time to lead. His journey to discover the truth is filled with one adventure after the next as David realizes that following the King isn’t always easy. The King’s plan for David includes many dangers as Lucifer and his Fiends work to destroy David. But the King has not left David alone, His Guardians are there every step of the way. Yet choices remain for the young hero. Will he follow the King? Is he the man the King wants him to be? The fight for the heart of the King’s chosen has just begun.
Taken from Chapter 2: Lion’s Ridge
Havenwold was made up of two major regions: Rekar in the north and Esnar in the south. The southern reaches of Esnar were beautiful in spring and the weather was crisp and clear. Overcast clouds kept the sun hidden sporadically and made the steady hike south only slightly uncomfortable. Adjusting his pack now and again David kept a steady pace with the sheep as they ate their way towards Lions Ridge. He followed a route parallel with the main road that moved out of the north into the Southern Wastes. Travelers passed occasionally as individuals or in groups and David waved or offered a friendly greeting. Few were returned.
David spent the entire day moving the sheep south. The meandering, slow grazing march that accompanied the dismal task gave David’s mind freedom to wander. The jealousy of earlier had finally faded and David smiled at the task before him. Lion’s Ridge! He couldn’t believe his dad was trusting him with such an important responsibility. He anxiously thought of running into a lion and then forced the fear from his mind. The odds of seeing a lion this early in the year were next to zero. He pulled out his sling absentmindedly and began swinging it casually, imagining the sort of battle a soldier would face.
A bleating cry brought his head back to the real world and he moved to the sound. He used his staff to gently push the young sheep back on track and then continued on. His brothers would get to see the town again. His father, although a simple farmer, had some importance in their village and traveled there often. Bellor was named for one of their ancestors long ago and many of the people here were their descendants, including David and his family. They lived on a farm a few miles outside of the city proper with cows, chickens, sheep, and a few other animals. The children cared for the farm while his father served on the city council. And Spring was a busy time of year for the council.
David sighed as he thought about his family. Youngest of eight boys, David was the skinniest, smallest, and according to his brothers, the most sensitive. So what if he liked to sing and dance? He groped his bag, ensuring the small instrument was tucked inside in anticipation for camping tonight. He found that music helped pass the time and it made him happy. His brothers all avoided it as much as possible, it seemed. And they never forgot to give David a hard time about his own tendencies to join with the song. His brothers really weren’t all that bad. Several of the older ones had conscripted into the steward’s army and were stationed just outside Bellor. They always came home with the best stories. The garrison hadn’t been called up to serve yet, but it would in time, David was sure of it. With the wars escalating between the tri-nations, there was no way the temporary truce would hold. It was too bad there wasn’t one man in charge of Otherworld. If only the King would return.
Waving to a couple of travelers who were moving north David thought about the King. From a very young age he had heard countless stories of the King: His greatness extended over all of Otherworld, His power was unmistakable and limitless, His judgement was fair and just, He was generous, kind, and the land prospered. His personal guard, the Guardians, were warriors of great renown both fearsome and lethal. The land had been covered in peace for the entirety of His reign and His subjects had no fear of war or famine.
But the peace did not last. David’s father had told them the story often. A Guardian, one of the most well-known and respected, had incited a rebellion. Long brewing in the dark recesses of his mind, he attempted to wrest the throne from the King. A cohort of Guardians had defected with him and launched an assault on the castle. A great battle raged. David’s father had explained that while such treachery was devastating, the worst was yet to come. This Guardian had somehow managed to convince the King’s subjects that they were better off without Him, that they didn’t need a king to rule them, and that their lives could be better managed by themselves. They listened. And Lucifer, this Guardian of deceit, led them to war. A whole nation had risen up against their King
But the battle was lost. The King, the Ancient One, the First, defeated His foes. Lucifer was cast down, crushed by Michael, the King’s champion. David flushed with excitement as he imagined the fearsome knights trading blow for blow. Mortal combat played out in shining brilliance of armor, steel, and cutting strikes of death. According to his father, when all seemed lost, the King himself appeared. No one could stand before His radiance and might. Even the Guardians bowed in awe of His power. A mighty spear thrust from Michael finally clove Lucifer to the ground: the battle was over.
The King was saddened more than anything. Lucifer had never been a true threat to His reign and no blow had struck Him that could hurt His crown. But the betrayal of His subjects pierced His heart. The King had only one option: judgement. Otherworld would be punished. For what King could forgive a nation of murderers, traitors, and thieves? His Guardians doled out the justice without mercy. Lucifer was banished along with the traitorous Guardians and forbidden to return. Only the great mercy of the King had left him alive, but not whole. Their brilliance and awe were dimmed. Cloaked now in misery and hate, their former glory was taken. Fiends they were called now, said his father. Covered in shame, Lucifer and his minions departed under Michael’s keen eye and ferocious blade. His last word to the King was a vow to return and take Otherworld back for himself.
David tried to imagine what kind of King would pardon His most treacherous enemy and his dangerous miscreants. Shrugging, he scoured the countryside to make sure his herd was still moving and marched forward under the sunlight through the hilly pastureland. Sure, the stories were great and inspired his imagination. He especially liked to pretend he was one of Michael’s warriors fighting side-by-side for the honor of their King. Gabriel, Thaddeus, Dungy, Elegy, Mirth, Demise, or one of the Boanerges, names of the most famous Guardians that still resounded in the stories of old. He swung a pretend sword at some imaginary Fiend in his path, flinging the dead remains to the ground with a triumphant shout. But the bleating once again brought him out of his dream and back to earth.
But that wasn’t the end, David remembered. Jesse would tell him how the nation itself had yet to stand trial. Though merciful, the King was just and His vengeance pure: there would be punishment for their crimes. David always grew mad during this part of the story. It was hard to imagine a ruler like the King. The kings David had heard about bickered, fought, whined, and mostly cared only for themselves at the expense of the people they lorded. But the King! How marvelous he must be! Ageless, or so the stories go, living under His reign would always be good and right and last beyond any man’s lifetime. As much as David wanted to believe such a story, he couldn’t help thinking it was just that: a story. His father, Jesse, believed it sure enough. His brothers were less sure and claimed such fantasies were for children. But somewhere deep inside, David believed the King was real and that He was exactly what the stories said He was.
Despite the atrocity of such treachery, the King’s love for His people was so fierce that He showed mercy. Deserving death, or worse, He granted them life. But the Otherworld would be forever changed. The King gave the people what they wanted: self-rule. He left for a new kingdom so the people could live without Him, as they wanted. ‘No!’ they had screamed, but it was too late. David’s father had explained that the people finally realized what living without the King meant: war, famine, poverty, and the selfishness of man which now ruled the Otherworld. The King took His Guardians and left.
It was at this point in the story that David’s father would grow excited. A light would shine in his eyes and his voice would grow in fervor as he continued the tale. David crested a small rise and saw it in the distance: Lion’s Ridge. Still half the day away, he scanned around him for his sheep, counting them one by one. Once accounted for he pushed on driving them south. He replayed his father’s words in his mind, ‘But the tale isn’t over! The King is going to return.’ The King had promised to make a new kingdom for those who remained loyal. He left instructions and directions to those who would follow Him, leaving a trail for only those who survived the trials.
This was always the part of the story that David had the hardest time understanding. The King was returning? How many hundreds or thousands of years had passed, and He was still gone? He shook his head in wonder at such an idea. Perhaps his brothers were right. The tale was probably just a fanciful adventure to excite the minds of the young or dumb. But David couldn’t shake the feeling that the King was real and that the story was told exactly the way it had happened. His head couldn’t convince his heart that it was false. But the way Otherworld was now, it was hard to see how something so good could be true.
David stopped for a mid-day meal and by early afternoon the clouds had cleared and the air had become warm and sweet. The crispness of the early morning was gone and David found himself sweating freely as he led his sheep towards the forest in the south. The ridge full of rocks, caves, boulders, and trees grew larger with each step and by late afternoon he arrived in the small bowl that sat between the trees and the ridge.
Shepherds long ago had set up small rock walls as large pens and David expertly moved his own herd inside. A single entrance made protection easy and David was soon happily eating his dinner near a small flame. The hot fire kept the early spring air at bay and stood between him and the entrance as added protection. Few robbers strayed this far south for the same reasons most shepherds avoided the ridge. Lions were some of the most dangerous predators and the risk didn’t seem worth the reward. But the grazing here was best for the very same reason and David’s father had the best sheep around.
He made a final check of the stone fence, shoring up any gaps or crumbled holes, and counted his sheep one last time. All here, he sighed happily as he laid down to sleep at the door to the pen. He closed his eyes and dreamed of serving as Guardian to the King.
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“Disgusting creatures,” Borzak spat as he surveyed the sheep below. Nach and his servant were in the dark recess of a cave that overlooked the entire valley. Their black cloaks and dark clothes blended seamlessly with the shadowed entrance. The young boy and his sheep were easy to pick out, no less because of the fire the stupid boy had lit. He didn’t even suspect he was being followed. This was the chosen one? No way, he shook his head vehemently. Or if it was true, what a joyous truth to report. He could crush the boy with a single swing. He fingered the pommel now, gently lifting it free of its scabbard a few inches, then put it back. No, he decided. That would be too simple; too easy. And nothing that was easy was satisfying to him.
“Move closer,” he waved his hand towards the woods behind the sheep pen. “Find out if there are Guardians near-by. If he is chosen he will be protected. But do nothing to reveal yourself. We don’t yet know the enemy’s game.”
Borzak nodded and moved silently away. The Fiend was good, Nach had to admit. Smooth, silent, quick, and ruthless. Already, stories of his abilities were spreading throughout the ranks. Van had recommended him as a ‘definite’ for promotion to Lucifer. The dispatches had been sent over a week ago and Van was now waiting final approval. Nach hated every second of it. He didn’t care that Borzak got promoted, he was still much lower than Nach. But anyone who drew attention and praise away from the rightful place, me, was despicable. He glared at the back of the Fiend as he slowly descended the ridge, careful not to disturb any rocks or loose debris. Showing their hand now could be fateful.
Little-by-little he let the anger build to a frothing ire. He could feel the rage boiling inside, giving him focus. He leaned against the alcove wall and silently watched the boy below.
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“David,” the voice spoke his name. “David.” David looked around, searching for the source of the voice. He realized suddenly he was dreaming. “You are mine, David. I have called you.” Called me? What is he talking about? David searched earnestly, desperately wanting to find the source of the voice. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “You are special, David. I have chosen you. Do not be afraid.”
He sat up suddenly, heart racing and face sweating. He gasped heavily in an attempt to catch his breath and slow down his heart rate. What a dream! Who was it? What did it mean? The voice hadn’t called him anything but David. So what did it mean by, ‘I have called you?’ Despite searching intently, he had been unable to see anything or anyone. It was just a stupid dream, he decided finally in an attempt to calm down.
“No it wasn’t, David.” A voice spoke to him across the glowing embers before him. So sudden was the sound that David’s heart ripped through his chest again in a renewed pounding that sounded in his ears. He suddenly had his knife in hand, prepared for anything as he studied the man before him.
“Who are you?” he asked cautiously, anxiously. The stranger kneeling over the fire across from him added wood to the coals and the red orange glow steadily grew stronger as the flames licked the fresh fuel. A dark gray cloak with hood drawn over his forehead did little to hide a well-muscled frame. Even kneeling, David could tell that he was tall, taller than any one of his large brothers. He could see a half dozen swords and weapons tucked neatly in his belt or strapped to his back, including a long wooden bow of magnificent quality inlaid with silver and gold. Underneath it all was an exquisite set of armor that looked hard as steel and yet he carried himself as if it were no more than an extra shirt.
“It was not just a dream, David,” the man clarified. Then pulling back his hood he looked up at David and met his eyes. Deep blue-green emeralds stared out from behind a stern and rugged face. Handsome would almost describe the man if not for the over-masculine structure of the jaw and forehead. There was no femininity here: this was a man. The eyes penetrated David as if they could see right through him.
“What do you mean? What dream?” David asked, still unsure of the stranger beyond. If he intended to kill David he would be dead already. But why was he here? “Would you like some food?” he asked suddenly thinking maybe the man was lost and hungry. “I have plenty of bread and fruit…”
The man waved his hand away. “I have food of my own, thank you. I’m sorry to have frightened you,” he indicated David’s still drawn knife. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. But what I have to say may scare you,” he added seriously.
Confused, David put away his knife and then sat up fully, stretching his legs out before him. “What is it you want?”
“My name is Thaddeus. You have heard of me before…?” he trailed off and David returned another confused stare.
“Thaddeus…Lonuth’s cousin?” David asked. His schoolmate, when he went to school, had spoken frequently of her cousin who was living north in Seviel. But the man smiled and shook his head slowly.
“Have you heard of the Guardians?” David heard his words and his mind clicked: Guardians, Fiends, the war, Thaddeus! His mind raced as the stories of his past were brought suddenly to life.
“Impossible!” he said softly, “The stories are…”
“Just stories?” Thaddeus raised an eyebrow at him. “Can’t stories be real? Is it so hard to believe we exist after all this time?”
David was flummoxed. The Guardians. Real. Thaddeus, member of the guard, warrior of the King. “How do I know? You could be anyone…” he trailed off, suddenly thinking past the emotion of his youthful imagination.
“I could be…” Thaddeus smiled again. “But I’m not. I am Thaddeus. Second to General Gabriel, commander of the 1st Guardians: servant of the King,” his voice rose in strength and pride, a light shown around his face and in his eyes, and David couldn’t help but be cowed in fear. Not afraid, not scared, but awed with a wonder that David had never known.
Thaddeus spoke softly now. “Do not be afraid, David. As the dream said: you have been chosen. You have been called. We are with you; and for you. Never forget, you are not alone. The King is with you,” David suddenly felt himself growing tired. He found himself laying back to the ground and covering himself with his blanket. Almost as if someone else was moving his arms and legs, his body moved. “Sleep now, David. Remember, you are His.”
He drifted off to sleep again with his mind racing. The Guardians were real! The stories of the King passed down from his father Jesse, and from his father, generations upon generations before, were real!
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“Pitiful,” Borzak spoke suddenly from behind Thaddeus as he watched the skimpy boy pass out again. “So, he is the chosen one. Silly for you to have revealed such a thing so freely, Thaddeus. But you were always a bit slow,” the Fiend laughed easily.
“Sleep…” the Guardian whispered to the boy again, as if he hadn’t heard Borzak at all. How dare he! Ignore me? Victor of Doruin, destroyer of thousands? He drew his sword silently and swung down with all his might. This fool’s life would end here and now.
His blade unexpectedly struck steel, stopping its forward motion with a ringing clash of metal-on-metal. Thaddeus was suddenly face-to-face with him, sword held aloft, the keenness of the Guardian’s blade pushing his own mighty sword back into his face. A sense of dread immediately overwhelmed him at the thought of death and banishment. Pushing with all his might he barely held the Guardian’s blade at bay.
“Hello Borzak,” Thaddeus said without effort. Borzak’s own body was beginning to tremble under the strain of holding back the Guardian’s sword, yet the man before him barely breathed, as if the strain of such a defense was a boring trifle. “I see you are still snooping around where you don’t belong. Just like when you were a Guardian all those years ago.”
“This struggle is pointless,” the Fiend could barely whisper. “Lower your sword and we’ll settle this like men.”
Thaddeus smiled nonchalantly and, stepping back quickly, sheathed his sword in a single fluid motion demonstrating a skill well beyond Borzak’s own. “What is it you want, Fiend? You have no power here,” he spread his hands out. “The King has claimed these lands. And as I recall, you were banished.”
“Hmph,” Borzak said out loud. “The King,” he spit the name out, “has gone. He has forsaken these lands. We are back to reclaim them for our own. But you know that already. So be a good servant and run away,” he shooed the Guardian off. “Then we can deal with this…boy. The chosen one you say? He will fall easily.”
Thaddeus shook his head. “He does not belong to you, or Lucifer. And you may not touch him,” the last words were spoken in the power of the King and Borzak crumbled under the weight of them and stumbled back several feet.
“How dare you, dog, order me around as if I were one of your servants.” As he lifted his sword to strike, he paused at the top of his arc, daring Thaddeus to draw his own in defense of the boy. “I knew you were weak,” he sneered. Then once again he swung the weapon down with all his might, watching Thaddeus the whole way down.
But the Guardian didn’t move. Standing still, he simply watched. Borzak’s own smile suddenly faded as, once again, his sword fell short of its mark. Stopping suddenly, inches from the boy’s neck, his sword lay suspended in the air as if a shield lay between him and the sleeping wimp. “Nooooo!” he screamed at the impossible. It couldn’t be! He had been a Fiend since the insurrection and never faced defeat. How did Thaddeus, this lowly Guardian, defeat him without even drawing a sword?
“Impossible!” he screamed again at the top of his lungs. The sheep around him stirred at the sound and bleated softly in response to their interrupted peace. Borzak turned to Thaddeus, “This isn’t over, pig. We will have him. Lucifer will have him.” He sheathed his sword, and then turning around he marched swiftly off into the dark towards Nach.
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“You are sure they know?” Gabriel asked watching the dark shadows huddled in the alcove of the ridgeline above. He had deliberately stayed hidden, careful not to reveal his presence to the Fiends who waited above. If his presence were known, it could cause a fight, and more powerful Fiends than the ones above still lurked in the Otherworld. The King was not ready to commit to an engagement. Cloak and dagger still ruled the secret war.
“Yes, Sir. I made sure that he was listening before I revealed myself to the boy. He overheard everything. The enemy knows the chosen one has come.” Gabriel sensed there was more his young friend wanted to know and waited quietly. “Why did we let them know, Sir? Why reveal the chosen one to the enemy now? How can this be good?”
Gabriel knew and felt the same confusion Thaddeus did. Often times the guidance from Michael, or even the King himself, made little sense to him. But he loved the King and trusted Him beyond words. His plans had never failed and He had never been defeated. “I don’t have an answer to your question. I wish I did,” he smiled. “But sometimes the King gives orders that are strange to us. We see only in part and so our minds cannot comprehend such directives. But the King is a master chess player. And He protects his pieces. We trust Him inherently and it is good that we do.”
“Yes, Gabriel,” he said slightly dejected. “I have been a Guardian since the King first claimed Otherworld. Since He first called it into being. But as a lowly soldier, I saw none of the commands or orders. I only knew to fight. It is strange being promoted to this level and I fear I have much to learn.”
Gabriel patted his friend’s back in an attempt to comfort him. “Fear and worry have no place for those who belong to the King, they are tools of the enemy. Do not be troubled. I’m sure we will find out soon enough why the enemy was made to know.”
Thaddeus looked up at him suddenly with a child’s excitement. “We are returning to the Kingdom? Will we see the King?”
Gabriel laughed, “No young Guardian, not yet. But we have been summoned to Silverstone where we will meet with the other captains. Michael has called a summit, the war council will meet, and hopefully, if we are blessed, the answers to all our questions will be given.” And with a wave of his hand, the cloaked form of the captain of the 1st Guardian Legion turned and disappeared into the blackness of the forest.
Thaddeus stood a moment longer watching the boy near the fire. David. How could the King choose such a little thing? He was surely intelligent, Thaddeus could tell that immediately. And handsome, in a boyish way, he was still a young man. Does the King see something that I don’t? He shrugged unknowingly and then slowly followed Gabriel into the woods.
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The morning had gone by quickly after David finally woke up. The sun had already crested the hills to the east and the sheep were awake and bleating; they noisily made their case for freedom to the fresh grass beyond their pen. David ate a quick breakfast and obliged, moving the wooden block to the door and watching as the sheep bounded happily for the green beyond. He watched a moment until they were all out and then packed his few belongings to follow.
It was a brilliant day. The clouds of yesterday had passed to the south and the sun was out in full force without deterrent. But all David could think about was his late-night visit. He wanted to convince himself that it was all a dream, especially the sudden appearance of the Guardian Thaddeus. He had almost done just that, completely disregarding the conversation. But while collecting his things he came across a token left by the man. He thumbed the small medallion in his hand as he walked, running his fingers over the design again and again. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he was sure it was left by the Guardian. The strange silver metal was not familiar to him. It gleamed like silver but was hard as steel. And the artwork on it was precise! A master craftsman must have etched this.
A circular medallion, the first side was bordered with floral leaves as if a vine had grown in a perfect circle around the center. The middle showed a strange cross that curved at the very tips of its vertical and horizontal beams. Where they crossed, two large dots sat on either side of the vertical line, and a final dot sat at the very bottom of the cross. The flip side bore the image of a crown with numbers and symbols that he didn’t recognize. It was a beautiful piece and David wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was probably quite valuable, but who would buy such an odd token? Maybe it was money where the Guardian came from.
The bleating sound of his sheep could be heard on and off throughout the morning as a constant reminder of his task at hand. Keeping the sheep safe was important to David. He had to prove his father could trust him. The sheep were content here where plenty of grass and a cool stream made filling their stomachs easy. David roamed the fields, stopping frequently to check on the young lambs, and made sure there were no injuries from the long march yesterday. Most were in great shape and only scratches or cuts had found a few sheep. Content for now, he pulled out his lyre, sat along the small brook, and began to play and sing.
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“You insolent, worthless being,” Nach was standing inches from Borzak’s face as he berated the young warrior. “I gave you explicit orders to remain hidden; not to reveal yourself to the boy or the enemy. Did Van teach you nothing about obedience?” The Fiend before him sneered in contempt for Nach, haughtily staring into the elder’s face.
“I did what I thought was best. The Guardian had opened himself up, there was no one else…”
Once again Nach found himself striking the man before him in a fury. “No one else? Are you such an idiot? You think the Guardians wander around the countryside all alone like lost puppies? Imbicile…” he trailed off with a final shove of his subordinate. As soon as this mission was done he was going to request Borzak be transferred, if not summoned back to Western Bane. He couldn’t stand the weak thing before him. Insubordinate.
“The next time I tell you to do something you will obey that order precisely. Do you understand?” the final words seethed out in a quiet ire that left no misunderstanding for the young Fiend. He watched as Borzak’s arrogant look passed, replaced by one of fear, and then he nodded in understanding. “Good. Now, what have you learned?”
“The boy below is the chosen one. Or so Thaddeus says. I overheard him without his knowing. He told the boy that he had been called and chosen. Such stupid words.”
Nach shook his head at the general lack of understanding that Borzak displayed. “You have much to learn still, Fiend. The boy is chosen, then. Lucifer must be told. Did you overhear anything? Any words about when or how the boy is to be used?”
The Fiend shook his head, “What if it is a ruse? What if the boy isn’t chosen at all and we were meant to hear the words?”
“Guardians don’t lie. They aren’t allowed to. Anything you heard was the truth. And if you are as good as I’ve heard, then they didn’t know you were there.” Borzak looked at him a moment and Nach realized there was something else. “Spit it out. I don’t have time for games.”
“I attempted to kill the boy…”
Nach laughed out loud, forgetting for a moment that they were trying to remain hidden along the ridge. “You? Tried to kill the chosen one?” he laughed again at the thought of this puny Fiend defeating the King’s chosen one through direct action.
Borzak was clearly not happy with Nach’s laughter. “I almost killed the Guardian. He was forced to withdraw, or be defeated. The boy would have died as well, but Thaddeus spoke some words over him and my sword could not touch him.”
“Words of power. The King’s power,” Nach responded thoughtfully. “So, he truly is chosen.”
“Words of power?” Borzak asked curiously. For someone who was getting promoted, this Fiend had little experience in the field.
“The King is more powerful than anyone except Lucifer. Luck and beguilement somehow led to his defeat. But for the Fiends, the King is a formidable foe. The Guardians are, occasionally, given permission to use his power. And in cases like this, only a powerful Fiend can challenge it. But never fear. Lucifer is working on a counter to such pitiful measures.”
Borzak nodded thoughtfully. “I felt strange when he spoke them over the boy. I felt weak and powerless.”
Nach nodded. He remembered several centuries ago when, facing Gabriel himself, the King’s power had been spoken over another chosen one. Moses was his name and Nach, although he had won several small victories, had lost the battle. Words of power were a very hard tactic to fight against. He almost felt sorry for the worthless creature beside him.
“No matter. There are other ways to deal with the boy. We may not be able to harm him directly, but we can still make sure he never serves the King. Watch and learn, young Fiend…”
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It was well past noon and David was lazily wandering the wood line on the eastern edge of the pasture. The sheep were sleeping, grazing, or walking in the stream enjoying the fresh cool water. Something bothered him about last night. He didn’t pick up on it then but thinking about it all day made connections in his mind that weren’t immediately clear. Thaddeus had known about the dream.
He couldn’t understand how such a thing was possible. How could a man know another man’s dream? Did the Guardians have some ability to give dreams to men? Or perhaps the Guardian had guessed? No, he shook his head slowly as he walked under the outstretched bows. Thaddeus used the same words as the dream. He even countered a thought David had as if he was listening to David’s mind! He shivered at thought of someone being able to see inside his head. How was it possible?
Suddenly he heard the sounds of nervous sheep rise until a collective bleating was loudly echoing across the hills: something was wrong. David sprinted towards the sounds, which were coming from near the ridge, drawing his sling as he did and loading it with a stone. He stopped at the crest of a small rise and discovered immediately the problem: a lion was slowly making its way down the ridgeline towards his herd. Most of the sheep had fled the area, but the loudest bleating was still coming from the rocks. David couldn’t see what was happening, but if he got closer he might have to face the lion. Panic began to build up inside of him. Fear tempted him to turn and run, to consolidate the sheep he could save and return to the pen. It was safe there, he could defend it easily. But what of the sheep in the rocks?
Determined to at least discover what was happening, he ran closer. If the lion had seen him it gave no indication that it was interested. David used the opportunity to get as close as he dared. There in the rocks near the base of the ridge, one of the younger lambs had attempted to climb up for a patch of particularly green grass. But it was stuck! David noticed its rear leg cinched between two rocks. The lion was close and saw no reason to hurry in making its kill. He was sure his heart was beating a thousand times per minute. Alone, terrified, helpless, his sheep was in need, and this lion was going to kill it. Better it than me.
No, he smashed that thought out of his mind and fear slowly gave way to anger. David hadn’t even realized that his sling was already swinging in his hand, the momentum built. Around and around the leather string swung until a blur was all that indicated movement. David walked steadily closer. The male lion was mere feet from the sheep and, with a final loping jump, the lamb was in its jaws. The lamb bleated feverishly as the lion laid down and began tearing at the fleece to get to the meat underneath. Still too far away to do any damage to the lion, he loosed his shot in an effort to scare it away.
The stone clattered against a large rock a few inches from the beast and bounced below it harmlessly. But it caused the lion to stop and look around. The lion’s fierce gaze centered on him and David heard a menacing growl as the beast snarled viciously at him. He continued walking forward and already had a second stone fitted into his sling. Within seconds he had it swinging again ready to release. The lion stood and turned towards him, concerned now at the presence of the human. But it made no motion to advance, or retreat. David released the second stone, this time striking the lion a glancing blow across his shoulder.
The large lion screamed a mighty roar and before the echo died it was crouched on all fours and growling at this new threat. David bravely kept moving forward, a third stone now swinging overhead. He was terrified, he had to admit. He had never faced anything dangerous before. What if I miss? What if it charges me? A trickle of blood was slowly dripping from where his second stone had struck the lion. Unconcerned, it watched him warily as David approached. He would only get one more chance. So he waited, approaching the lion to within two dozen feet.
The lion took a few steps forward and then crouched again. David swung the sling faster. Around his head, the whoosh and whir of the blurring leather rotated aloft. Still, he waited. Suddenly the lion struck and David felt his heart leap in his chest. At the last possible moment, he flung the stone with every ounce of strength in his small, lithe body, and immediately felt the full weight of the lion crash into him. Searing pain erupted from his left shoulder and arm as the lion ripped into his flesh. Impossibly heavy, he tried to breathe.
The lion adjusted its grip on his shoulder sending a renewed burst of pain throughout his entire body. He had one last chance, one last shot at living through the day. He drew his knife with his good hand and with every ounce of strength he had left, slammed the blade into the side of the lion’s head. As one last wave of pain hit him, his last thought was of failing his father.
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“See, it is finished,” Nach smiled smugly at Borzak as they watched the lion pounce on the boy below. A short struggle ensued as the lion attempted to gain a good grip of the boy in its maw. “Why fight in the open and risk death, or banishment,” he added purposefully, “when you can fight in the shadows. How easy was it to rouse the lion from its sleep and point it towards the boy?”
Borzak nodded appreciatively, clearly impressed. Nach congratulated himself and thought about the accolades he was sure to receive. The chosen one lay dead before him and he had not even lifted a sword. “Come. We must report this to Lucifer at once…”
He noticed suddenly that the lion was not moving. Surely after catching its prey, it would begin to kill it and eat it. But the lion lay motionless on top of the boy as if asleep. He squinted his eyes against the glaring sun, trying to see exactly what was going on. Even Borzak had his hand to his eyes in an attempt to diffuse any amount of sunlight he could from the shadowed cave. After what seemed like forever, the lion finally began to move. Nach’s sigh of relief was cut suddenly short.
“No…Impossible!” Borzak said. The exact same words had almost left Nach’s mouth. The lion’s movement was actually David, who was pushing the beast off of himself! The boy stood up and looked down upon the beast. His shirt was ripped open and claw marks etched his arm in bright red streaks where the lion struck. Two holes in his left shoulder oozed blood where the beast’s jaw was clamped just moments before. His wounded left hand still held the sling, hanging limply now from the weakened fingers. In his right, a crimson knife dripped fresh blood into the dirt.
The boy’s face turned up to the sky with thankful gratitude before looking down on the beast at his feet in defiance. A quiet resolve was reflected in the boy’s eyes, and Nach knew that the King had chosen well. David’s right arm flexed as he felt his strength, and then Nach watched as the boy knelt down and cut off the head of the beast.
“How could this have happened…” Nach wondered out loud and then waved the failure away. “No matter. We will have many other chances to finish the weak thing off. Come Borzak. Lucifer must be told. The chosen one has been found. We know now the enemy’s plan.” He lifted the black cloak’s hood over his head and eyes, and then stepped out of the cave into the light. Hateful light. It didn’t matter if the boy saw them now, they would appear just like two more travelers. He began moving west. A great battle for Otherworld was just beginning.
HoK Artwork
