"BANT BITTERWOOD! COME forth!" forth!"
Hezekiah's loud voice echoed through the small cabin. His daughters flinched at the noise. Adam, in his crib, began to wail. Bant went to the crib and leaned over to kiss his son on the forehead. The motion distracted Adam from the shout. He fell silent and stared up at Bant with wide, wet eyes. Bant turned away and faced his daughters. He scooped them into his arms as they rushed to him.
"Why do you have to go away?" asked Ruth, his eldest daughter.
"Hezekiah says we must spread the word of the Lord," Bant said, squeezing them with all his strength before lowering them once more to the dirt floor. "I'll think about you every day."
Recanna stood by the door, holding his pack.
"Be careful," she said as he took the pack from her hands.
"I will," Bant said, embracing her. "I'll miss you."
Ruth tugged at his pant leg.
"Promise you're coming back?" she said.
"I promise," Bant said, smiling. He wished he knew when that promise would be fulfilled. Hezekiah insisted they would be gone only as long as needed, but he also firmly refused to say how long that might be. Bant knew that his journey might last a season, or it might last years. He wished he could refuse the duty. However, after witnessing the miracle of Hezekiah being unharmed by the spear, he knew beyond question the man was a true messenger of God. Refusing Hezekiah would be like saying no to God himself.
Bant's greatest fear was what might happen as a consequence of slaying the dragon. Yet over a month had passed with no sign of the king's armies. Perhaps Hezekiah's performance had been enough to scare them off forever.
With one last kiss Bant pulled away from Recanna's arms, then walked outside. Hezekiah waited, his wagon loaded and ready, his ox-dog pawing impatiently at the ground, its breath fogging in the morning air. Bant shivered as the breeze played with his cloak. The bright sun just over the trees hinted at a warm day to come.
"It looks like a good day to travel," Bant said, placing his pack on the wagon.
"Every day is a good day to do the Lord's work," Hezekiah replied.
Bant took his seat next to Hezekiah. "Have you decided our destination?" he asked.
"We shall head north, further into the heart of ignorance. The Lord will decide when we reach the site of his next church."
Hezekiah flicked the reigns. The ox-dog gave a low bark and began dragging the heavy wagon forward. Bant looked back at his home, at this wife and children standing in the doorway. Their forms shimmered as his eyes filled with tears.
They passed through the now bare peach orchards. The air smelled of dry leaves. In the distance some of the village boys were rounding up a herd of goats for milking. Soon the women would turn their attention to the art of cheese making. Bant found himself reviewing all the things that still needed to be done in the village. The past month hadn't been enough time to finish everything. The necessities were taken care of, but he knew Recanna would have liked to have the house freshly painted, the widow Tabe's barn needed mucking, and the men could have certainly used his help with digging the second well.
Most of all, he hated leaving Recanna to care for the children alone. When next he saw Adam, no doubt the boy would be walking, perhaps even talking. He wanted to witness these things. He wanted to share his thoughts with Hezekiah but over the years he'd learned to anticipate the prophet's consistent message. The greater he suffered in this world, the greater his reward in the next.
"This is all part of God's plan," Bant said, meaning it as an affirmation, though it struck his ears like a question.
"Everything is part of God's plan," Hezekiah said.
THE OX-DOG WAS slow but steady. Moment by moment the distance between Bant and his home grew. slow but steady. Moment by moment the distance between Bant and his home grew.
They were five miles from Christdale, with the sun high in the sky, when they saw the earth-dragons. This time only two of the dragons rode on the great lizards, but they led scores of soldiers, a long, single file which blurred together in the distance like an enormous emerald serpent slithering among the autumn foliage.
"Hezekiah-"
"I see them, Bant Bitterwood," the cleric answered.
"What do you think this means? What should we do?"
"Proceed with our journey," Hezekiah said, and he did so, keeping the cart on the road, drawing ever closer to the advancing regiment.
As they drew within a few hundred yards, the dragons halted and formed into a line across the road three dragons deep, spears thrust forward. Behind the line, one of the mounted dragons drew up in his saddle. Bant recognized Mekalov, the dragon who had visited Christdale the previous month.
"Isn't this a pleasant surprise," Mekalov said.
"Stand aside," Hezekiah said. "We go to spread the word of the Lord."
"Spreading your manure is of no importance to us," Mekalov answered, his eyes narrowed in anger. "We were charged with collecting the taxes of your village. Since you refused the king's generous offer to keep half of your labors, we come with new terms: we will take anything the king may find of value and destroy everything else."
"What?" Bant said, standing up on the wagon seat. "Are you mad?
"These are Albekizan's orders. To call us mad is to call the king mad. Hold your tongue lest I cut it from your treacherous lips."
"But-"
Mekalov raised his talon, silencing Bant. "Your protests are meaningless. Nothing you can say will spare your village."
"So be it," Hezekiah said. "Their souls are readied. Now, stand aside."
"What?" Bant said. "You're telling them it's okay?"
The prophet tilted his head up to face Bant. His eyes remained hidden beneath the broad black rim of his hat. "Our work there is done. All have been saved. What true harm can come to those who have immortal life? Have faith, Bant Bitterwood. The Lord shall provide."
Bant was speechless.
"Your submission is the only wise course," Mekalov said. "Step down from the wagon. The ox-dog will be spared for he can be used to carry the tax back to the king. To insure his strength we shall keep him fed on human flesh. A beast like this... I would say he requires at least two human males to feed him on his journey ahead."
"Dragon, I have no quarrel with you," Hezekiah said. "But if you attempt to interfere with our journey, you shall surely die. Stand aside."
"Why?" Bant asked, finding he was angrier with Hezekiah than afraid of the dragons. "Are our lives worth more than Recanna's? It's okay for my children to die as long as we live?"
"We shall discuss the matter later, Bant Bitterwood."
"No, you won't," the dragon hissed, raising a huge battle-axe above his head. "Kill them!"
The dragons rushed forward in one wave. The ox-dog snarled and jumped at them, breaking their line in half. The sudden movement toppled Bant backward from the flat wagon seat into the jumbled cargo. Hezekiah's strong hand reached beside Bant's face, and the prophet's fingers closed around the handle of his oversized axe.
The earth-dragons swarmed around the wagon. A spear bit into the wagon bed an inch from Bant's throat. The wagon shuddered as Hezekiah leapt into the fray, bringing his axe down with a force that severed the nearest dragon's arm. Two more dragons leapt on Hezekiah, grabbing his wrists. Hezekiah swung the dragons who held him like rag dolls as he viciously hacked a red path through the green swarm.
The wagon continued to bounce around as the ox-dog fought until one of the giant mounted lizards pounced into its side. The wagon tilted and Bitterwood clutched at the shifting cargo as he struggled to stay aboard.
Suddenly, Mekalov cried out a command and the dragons that surrounded Hezekiah jumped clear as the leader's mount thundered ahead in a charge. Hezekiah struck first, burying his axe deep into the brow of the behemoth that crashed toward him. Momentum carried the monstrous lizard forward, with Mekalov leaning out from his saddle, slicing his broad, flat axe sideways with a savage shout, catching the black-robed cleric by the neck, severing his head from his shoulders.
Hezekiah's body staggered backward as his head spun through the air. Instead of blood gushing from the stump of his neck, a beam of red light brighter than the sun shot to the heavens.
"WHEREFORE THE KING SAID UNTO ME, WHY IS THY COUNTENANCE SAD, SEEING THOUGH ART NOT SICK?" Hezekiah shouted, his booming voice emanating from his headless torso.
Everyone turned to witness the spectacle, giving Bant temporary relief from the threat of spears. The great lizard and the ox-dog continued to struggle, jostling him among the cargo.
Mekalov jumped from his dying lizard, which now writhed in agony, with Hezekiah's axe still buried deep in its brow. Hezekiah's head fell at his feet. Mekalov jumped back as the head began opening and closing its jaw furiously, pushing itself around in a slow circle.
The prophet's body continued to stagger about, shouting mouthlessly: "THERE IS NO HEALING OF THY BRUISE; THY WOUND IS GRIEVOUS. Data set 1034. Syscheck failed."
The body swayed, looking ready to fall, then straightened itself and announced, "BUT THEY WERE STILL ILL FAVOURED, AS AT THE BEGINNING. SO I AWOKE."
The body began to walk in circles as all the dragons watched, slack-jawed.
At last, Hezekiah's head worked itself around to face the wandering body. The body stopped suddenly and said, "System initialization. Stabilize. Syscheck positive. Begin command."
His body then stepped purposefully toward his head, leaning down to grab it with his left hand while he pulled the buried axe free of the dead lizard with his right. He placed his severed head upon his shoulders. Sparks and smoke flew as they connected. Hezekiah turned to face Mekalov, straightening his coat.
"By the bones," Mekalov muttered. "What are you?"
Hezekiah stared at the earth-dragon as white smoke continued to rise from his neck. Then, with blinding speed, the prophet raised his axe high in the air and shouted: "TO ME BELONGETH VENGEANCE!"
Hezekiah struck the axe directly through the center of Mekalov's skull, continuing down in its vicious slice until its tip was buried in the ground. Mekalov's bisected body fell to earth in equal halves.
Just then the ox-dog let out a pained, wet, yelp as the lizard sunk its teeth into the dog's throat. The lizard pushed forward, forcing the ox-dog to fall to its back and sending the wagon completely over. Bant smashed his head against a rock as the heavy contents crashed down upon him. Bright spots danced before his eyes, and when they faded, all was dark and quiet.
BANT WOKE BENEATH the stars next to a crackling fire. His head throbbed. He tried to raise a hand to touch it but his arms were tangled under blankets. Hezekiah sat next to him, running a whetstone along the edge of his axe. Behind the prophet lay a pile of reptilian corpses. the stars next to a crackling fire. His head throbbed. He tried to raise a hand to touch it but his arms were tangled under blankets. Hezekiah sat next to him, running a whetstone along the edge of his axe. Behind the prophet lay a pile of reptilian corpses.
"I feared for your life, Bant Bitterwood," Hezekiah said.
Suddenly, Bant remembered. He kicked aside his covers and jumped to his feet.
"Do not flee," Hezekiah said. "You may be confused by what you witnessed today. Put it from your mind. You are still called by the Lord to do his work. Do not falter."
"You... you aren't human," Bant said.
"No," Hezekiah said.
"Are you angel, or devil?"
"Neither," the cleric answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the edge of his axe. "I am a machine. A carefully crafted tool charged with ensuring that the greatest truth ever entrusted to men shall not perish. For over a thousand years I have performed the duties given to me by my maker."
"I don't understand," Bant said.
"Understanding isn't required, Bant Bitterwood. All that matters is that you have faith. In my long centuries wandering this world, I have seen many men loyal to the Lord lose their faith after events like this. I hope you will prove stronger."
"You've lied to me all these years!"
"I never claimed to be human, Bant Bitterwood."
"What have I done?" Bant said, cradling his head in his hands. "I've given up everything to follow you."
"You've given up nothing," Hezekiah said sternly. Then, more softly, "The Lord will provide."
"Don't talk to me!" Ban shouted. "You were willing to let the dragons kill Recanna!"
Hezekiah shrugged. "I have sown the seeds of the word. Your fellow villagers have grown ripe in their love of the Lord. Perhaps the Lord has chosen to harvest the crop."
"I'm going back," Bant said, looking around the camp for his pack.
"That would be inadvisable," Hezekiah said. He sat aside the whetstone and began to polish the axe with a piece of soft leather.
"I don't want your advice."
"My mission requires me to purge uncooperative nonbelievers. Refuse to carry out your missionary duties and I will be forced to regard you as fallen. You stand with the Lord or you stand against him. There is no middle ground."
"You're threatening me?"
"I'm informing you," Hezekiah said, holding the axe so that the firelight danced along its polished surface. He looked satisfied with his work. "With proper care, a good tool can last forever," he said.
"You can't stop me," Bant said, looking over his shoulder into the darkness. He was disoriented, but he thought he recognized enough of the landscape to know where he was. "I'm going home."
"I doubt that is possible," Hezekiah said. "Christdale may no longer exist. Thirty dragons fled and they moved in the direction of the village. I watched the smoke rise from that direction as night fell."
"You're lying," said Bant.
Hezekiah shook his head. "If your family is dead, Bant Bitterwood, it is now vital you remain faithful. You wish to reunite with them in heaven, do you not?"
"You son of a bitch," Bant growled. He turned and ran into the night, following the rough road back to the village. The night was moonless and the stars glittered like frost clinging to the sky. Dark shadows chased him, raced before him, thrust across the path to trip him. Each time he fell, he lifted himself once more and ran. His heart pounded in his ears. His lungs burned with each rasping breath. Hot daggers pierced his side. At last, after running for an eternity, he smelled the familiar scents of his home fields.
Then he smelled smoke.
He ran through the orchards, remembering the night so long ago when he had searched the darkness to find Recanna. He could see the red glow of light from ahead. He raced from under the thick trees into the starlit field. In the distance the embers of Christdale smoldered in the night breeze.
"No!" he shouted as he saw the charred remains that had once been his home. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees, weeping.
"Recanna!" he cried. "Recanna!" No one answered. He crawled into the black ash, burning his hands and knees as he dug through the hot rubble. He could barely recognize the shards of his life... Was this charred and broken clay the plate he'd eaten his breakfast on? Was this mound of smoldering cloth the bed he'd slept in the night before? Blisters formed on his fingers as he dug, looking for any sign of his family. He coughed and wheezed in the smoke rising from the rubble; he could barely see anything through his tears. His random path through the ruins at last led him away from the coals and onto a patch of dry earth that had once been his front yard. He collapsed, his raw and bleeding hands and knees no longer able to support his weight.
He lay there, breathless and numb, hearing only the crackle of embers. He had no strength to even open his eyes. After a long time he heard footsteps.
"You see now the truth in my words, Bant Bitterwood," Hezekiah said, his voice calm and even. "There is nothing left for you here. The Lord has cleared all obstacles to our mission."
Bant rose and turned to face the prophet he had followed all these years.