In Harmony We Trust, Ryan Matthew Harker [rooftoppers .txt] 📗

door.
“Yes sir?” McAriicoys asked his hand on the door knob.
“I’m sure you know that I’m not happy with your commander for his actions regarding the Chosen Ones.” It was a statement not a question but still McAriicoys nodded his head in affirmation. The King continued, “It is a dangerous game that he plays. I just want to know what his intentions are now. What will he do? Where is he taking them?”
McAriicoys turned to look the king directly in the eye and took the risk of addressing him by name. “It’s a dangerous game in which all of us are engaged Zakeriah. I’m confident that Jeshux knows what he’s doing, as should you be. As for his intentions, I couldn’t tell you beyond that they were going to leave the Midnight Monastery. I don’t know anything else.” At the King’s anguished look he added, “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, yes,” the King replied, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “Thank you McAriicoys. You should be on your way.”
“Yes your highness.” And without another word McAriicoys exited the chamber.
Although he knew his way around the castle the guard that had brought him to the King had waited and led him swiftly to the gate. Once on the street he strode purposefully to the city garrison and once again was able to bask in the glow of the people’s recognition. For some reason he did not experience the same elation as he had felt on the way to the castle but it still made him feel better.
Once at the garrison McAriicoys had little trouble finding the section in which Pentooli was bunked and a few minutes later it was he who was knocking on her door.
“Yes?” came her voice from the other side.
“Pen, it’s McAriicoys,” he said.
The door opened and there she was smiling radiantly. As soon as she saw his face she grew sober. “What is it?” she asked briskly sensing formal business. “Do you want to come in?” she added.
“No, but I need you to report to the castle immediately. I’ve volunteered you for the defense committee against that arcane energy bomb and they need you ASAP.”
“Yes, sir!” she responded promptly. “It just so happens I’ve been working out some things on that subject. It’ll just take me a moment to gather my notes.” She started to turn away and then hesitated. “Um, you will accompany me, won’t you?” she asked almost shyly.
“Of course,” McAriicoys replied.
“Oh, ok good,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Five minutes later the two of them made their way back to the castle. Neither of them said much as they walked, both of them had other things on their minds but all the same they kept glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Once they arrived at the castle gate Pentooli surprised McAriicoys by giving him a light kiss on his cheek.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said and then saluted, “Sir!” turned and strode into the castle but if McAriicoys could have foreseen what the future had in store for them he would not have settled for just a kiss on the cheek.


Jeshux was hanging back from the rest of the Midnight refugees. It had been three days since their narrow escape from the monastery and was the day after McAriicoys had had his audience with King Zakeriah. Late the evening before, from the direction of the capital, there had been a flash of intense light, bright enough to turn the evening twilight into midday for almost four seconds. Jeshux feared the worst for his friends and comrades and had, in his musings, taken to trailing at the rear of the procession. After some time at the back of the line he began to notice inconsistencies in his horse’s behavior and started to suspect that they were being tailed. After nearly a day of subtle investigation the commander general was almost certain of the reality of their shadow and during their midday break he took Candlelite aside and confided his suspicions to the young man. Then he enlisted his aid in preparing a little surprise for whoever may be behind them.
Forty-five minutes later had given the two men plenty of opportunity to devise a clever distraction for their pursuer as their party headed on down the road and with the aid of a bit of magic, Jeshux and Candlelite discreetly faded into the trees.
They did not have long to wait for no sooner had the refugees rounded the first bend in the road, which put them out of sight, then a figure on horseback cautiously made its way into the clearing from the direction they had come.
Jeshux was surprised to see that the figure was astride a horse of the monastery and his first thought was perhaps this person was a survivor. But no, as soon as this thought entered his head he dismissed it. If this person truly had been a survivor of the Midnight Monastery then there would be no reason for such a slow and discreet approach. As the rider drew nearer he could plainly see that it was a female. She was dressed all in black with a red sash about her waist. There were no signs of weaponry but that meant nothing for she bore herself as a warrior and had the confident air of a professional.
Candlelite was the first to voice Jeshux own suspicions. “The assassin,” his nearly inaudible whisper was not a question.
Jeshux said nothing, only nodded and with a hand signal indicated for Candlelite to stay put. In implementation of their plan he began to creep silently around the perimeter of the clearing so that he might gain the assassin’s rear.
Once he was in position Candlelite, who had been following Jeshux stealthy progress, stood up and stepped in front of the black clad rider.
All that Candlelite could think of was Absinthe and his close brush with death at this woman’s hands and he addressed her with unconcealed anger, “Hello Sefu Atarle, I believe you’re looking for me.”
Startled though she was Sefu’s recovery was almost instantaneous. Smiling benignly she asked, “And where is your beautiful consort Chosen One?”
“Don’t you wish you knew,” Jeshux took this moment to step out of hiding with a plasma pistol aimed at Sefu’s back.
“Well met Commander General,” the assassin nearly purred his title while barely gifting him with a glance over her shoulder. “I should have given you more credit than I did.” And slowly she began to turn her mount sideways in the road.
“Don’t move Atarle!” Jeshux barked as Candlelite drew his own pistol.
Sefu laughed, as surprisingly beautiful sound to have come from such a dark soul.
Turning back to Candlelite she sneered, “And what do you intend to do with that pup?”
If she hoped to anger him she failed. Candlelite’s rage was already to the boiling point but although he had his teeth clenched he managed to speak calmly, “Whatever proves necessary assassin. You did almost kill me and Absinthe after all.”
“Yes,” her eyes slit like a cats and her voice went sweet and sugary again. “almost. A very strange and unfortunate mishap, one I’ve pondered and intend to rectify.”
At her last word Sefu quickly and gracefully slid out of her saddle while at the same time throwing a shuriken, deftly plucked from somewhere on her person. The spinning star hit Jeshux pistol just as he squeezed the trigger, which threw his shot wide and caused him to drop his weapon. This gave the assassin enough time as she hit the ground to hurl another shuriken between her horse’s legs which ended Candlelite’s frustration at having his target blocked by the animal.
He saw Candlelite drop and Jeshux stomach lurched as it had not since he had first enlisted in the Imperial Army all those centuries ago. Please let him be all right, he prayed fervently as he drew his sword and rushed the downed assassin.
Sefu was not down long though. She saw the young man fall and sensing the approach of the immortal she spun, drew a sword seemingly from nowhere, rose and blocked the downward arc of her enemy’s blade.
She fell back from her opponent with a grunt as Jeshux riposted with all of his male strength. Damnit! Sefu for all of her skill could not match the mercenary when it came to brute power and he knew it. He did not even try to be tactful but attempted to wear her down through sheer force alone. Well, she could not let that happen.
Falling back under the mercenary’s onslaught, the assassin feigned a weakened defense to gain some space.
As soon as she had put a safe distance between herself and her attacker Sefu spread her arms and shouted for the heavens to hear, “Sombalii Don For Natu!”
Jeshux started to press his attack when the assassin made her declaration. He immediately recognized the incantation and cursed himself for a fool. He had thought he had her on the ropes but realized she had played him to gain the time she needed to weave a spell of strength augmentation.
He only had one card to play so he wasted no time.
Advancing warily he circled around to the assassin’s sword side, keeping his own sword raised in front of him. Just a little more and his trap would be set, just a little more. The assassin lunged, perhaps overconfident that her magically induced strength had evened the odds. Just as their swords were about to clash Jeshux gave his hilt a subtle twist. Bright blue and hot white surges of charged ions suddenly flashed the length of his swords blade like a miniature lightning storm. No sooner had this occurred and the two weapons met but instead of the distinct clanging of steel on steel there was the popping of electrical wiring grounding out followed by the clatter of Sefu’s sheared blade as it hit the rocky soil.
In her fist the assassin held the now useless hilt of her broken sword. Well, well, it seemed that she was not the only one who knew how to play dirty. She had underestimated this mercenary yet again. It would not happen a third time.
Sefu threw herself out of the way of the mercenary’s next blow while reaching into one of the many pockets concealed about her person and withdrew a charged weapon of her own. She flipped a concealed switch on the cylindrical device. The plasma blade sprang to life, dancing ethereally out of the hilt as black as a midnight sky on a moonless night.
“You are not the only one to deviate from the old path,” Sefu chortled as she swung the blade from side to side and wafted the smell of scorched atmosphere to Jeshux nostrils.
“Damn you and your devious devices!” Jeshux snarled his own blade generating the smell of a charged atmosphere similar to that created by a thunderstorm.
“And you and yours as well,” the assassin countered evenly. “It was many years I carried that sword.” She indicated the broken blade and the discarded hilt. “And many times had it been repaired but the curse of your weapon has surely made an end of it now.” An ion-sword was notorious for destabilizing anything solid it struck- no matter the object be of metal, plastic, or even wood- so the broken blade as well as the hilt were sure now to be brittle and useless.
The two warriors circled each other warily. Evenly match and now aware of the others measure, neither was willing to make the mistake that gave the other the advantage.
Coming together again the two blades cut the very air before colliding in a fury only a physicist could appreciate fully. Back and forth the two combatants raged