His shame hung heavier than the thick iron chains that bound each limb. Led like a dog through the Temple of the Infidels, Arter braced himself as he entered the very heart of the Dagonite Empire.

The first cool breezes of the evening drifted through the rough iron manacles, chilling his open wounds. Arter stole momentary glances around himself as the weight of the shifting chains allowed, enabling the jeering crowd to view their prize. The raucous laughter grew louder and Arter realized that he had quickly mastered this new experience called shame. His unaccustomed weakness compelled him to look beyond the twisted faces, the violent sneers; to the ground, the sky, anywhere but at the mob around him.

The weight of the chains forced his chest to heave and with a groan, he arched his back for a full breath. Seeing him pause, the sentry behind kicked him forward, knocking him to the ground. The shame urged him to stay down and cover his face.

“Look up!” commanded the small spark of the man he used to be. “Up!”

They were crowing now, the cowards, the useless cowards...a groan escaped again. These people only months before could not collectively summon the courage to even look him in the eye but now, while he was bound and helpless, they slapped each other on the back and congratulated each other for their bravery.

Yet even the pain, torture and humiliation were easy to understand. How many times had he, himself, jeered at their spineless armies when they ran from him? How many times had he followed their retreats with mockery and laughter? So this parade through the masses was only part of the warfare, but the shame he felt was brought about by the events that occurred after the treachery that brought his defeat.

When she betrayed him, did she even stop to think that they would take his wife and infant child and burn them to death? Did she even once imagine they would slaughter the people of his village? It was abomination!

The Dagonite soldiers committed acts they would never have dared attempt while he had The Advantage. Had they escalated the warfare to such a personal level, Arter would have gladly taken the battle into the heart of the Kingdom itself - ironically, to here, to the Grand Temple of Dagon, religious and cultural soul of the entire Dagonite empire.

Easily the largest building complex he had ever seen, the Temple was a massive coliseum dedicated to the worship of the stone god Dagon. More people than Arter had ever seen in one place crowded into the huge auditorium. He had no experience on which to base an estimate of the actual number of those in attendance, having been raised with a small band of priests in the Jusinan Temple of the One God.

On the other hand, the Premiere of the Royal House of Dagon, Habideh, the leader of the Dagonite people, had a lifetime of experience with large crowds and by his estimation, more than twelve thousand Dagonites were present. He was pleased to see that the leaders of all the opposing factions in the Dagonite Empire were present. Even political enemies from the Eastern District were in attendance with their reluctant praise this day. This would most surely cement the rule of his family line for generations.

Habideh thought perhaps he should be honouring the Jue instead of sacrificing him. By decimating his political opponents, the Jue had allowed Habideh's armies to grow, both in number and popularity, and, when his opponents were suitably weakened, Habideh made his move and won.

The first news Habideh had heard of the troublesome Jue was a casual mention, the sort of story that leaders hear in passing many times a day. It was some kind of minor squabble involving a woman and her parents. The only reason this was even mentioned in his presence was that the woman's parents were blood relatives of Palheem, leader of the strongest faction opposed to Habideh, which made revenge a matter of Royal Honour.

In typical Eastern District fashion, Palheem boasted that he was going to make an example of this upstart Jue. Palheem’s brute squad entered Arter’s home city with a simple assignment: Arrest and return with the Jue Arter. The first reports that Habideh heard were so unbelievable that he took them to be stories manufactured to embarrass Palheem, who loudly and publicly dismissed the tales as weak excuses of weaker men.

There were variations, but the stories all told of how the unarmed Jue single handedly defeated the entire armed squad sent to arrest him. But Habideh and the other Dagonite leaders at last began to take notice when subsequently larger companies met similar fates and similar stories reached the Palace about a lone Jue who could singlehandedly defeat large scores of men. To save face, Palheem then made a pact with other political factions to bring the rogue in, purposely leaving Habideh out of his plans.

Palheem then sent more than one thousand troops. Overkill for sure, but it would insure minimal Dagonite losses and replace a recently acquired Juish rebellion mindset with the rightful fear of their Dagonite Rulers.

The troops came into contact with Arter while he was returning home through a field. As the troops advanced with their swords and clubs, Arter picked up a nearby bone and slaughtered almost the entire battalion. The only surviving soldiers were the few who had run early and their words were spoken in fearful trembling. They spoke of arrows that shattered upon striking Arter's bare skin. They reported that their swords would not tear even his clothing. Palheem sat back in his seat, ominously silent.

Habideh began to plan.

Exaggerated stories or not, this Jue had some means to physically conquer scores of men.

Palheem's real problem, Habideh knew, was that he was attacking Arter's strength. Habideh had not gained his political power by giving his enemy the automatic advantage of attacking his strongest place. His tactic was to always exploit his enemy’s weak spot. So instead of sending men to fight Arter, Habideh instructed them to watch the Jue.

He discovered that Arter visited a woman from Sorek whose name was Geila and so he ordered his men to bring her to him.

“What do you know about a man from Jusinan by the name of Arter?” Habideh asked.

“He is a Judge of the Jues.”

This surprised Habideh. He had assumed that Arter was a soldier of some kind.

“I want to know how he--sometimes unarmed, they say-- defeats scores of men. What weapons does he use? How many men are in his army?”

“He has no army. His God has gifted him with superhuman strength. I have not seen a physical feat that he wished to accomplish that he has failed at. He does not like the people of our nation, especially the soldiers.”

“Why?”

“They kidnapped his bride when he was younger and abused her until she died.”

“Surely that is not the cause of all of this warfare,” Hebideh wondered aloud.

“It is,” Geila answered, with a tone indicating that she understood Arter's motivation.

“What other weakness do you see in him?”

”I do not know of any weakness in him. Even while asleep, he is unharmed by swords.”

Habideh cocked his head in disbelief.

“He has been attacked in his sleep before. Your soldiers no longer even try.”

“You mean that he cannot be harmed in any way?”

“None that I have seen. Ask your General there,” she said, pointing to a man whose face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. Habideh paused for a moment and then stepped down to her.

“I know that your father’s hardships have led you to the life you are living. I am in a position to grant your family power and position. All you have to do for me is to find out Arter's weakness. I am even willing to give your father a small seat on the Council itself.”

Geila said nothing. Normally, such a rare proposition would have been treated as an unbelievable gift by a girl from such a poor family, but the thought of betraying Arter and then dealing with his wrath was also unthinkable. Habideh, offended by her hesitation, moved directly in front of her, took both of her hands in his and placed his face within inches of hers.

“Or I could just as well have your family killed,” he snarled.

So Habideh sent a spy who would send regular reports of Arter's activities and sure enough, Geila succeeded where thousands of armed men failed. Habideh’s men brought the defeated Arter before the local Governor, whose first thought was to blind him, but then decided to cut off his thumbs and his great toes as a sign of humiliation and put him to work slaving in the mills. Habideh ordered his transfer and quickly announced his victory. Jusinan’s greatest warrior would be the human sacrifice at this year’s festival.

Habideh gave a condescending smile to the peasant sitting beside him, who, because of his daughter's cunning, was granted a seat on the Council. Ignoring the offensive odor and missing teeth of the new Councilman of Sorek, he turned to his right where sat the girl who actually delivered the Jue.

“Geila, if you ever try to betray me the way you did the Jue, I will kill you myself,” Habideh whispered to her, the smile never leaving his face, his eyes never looking directly at her.

Fanfare erupted, interrupting Habideh’s daydreaming and his attention turned to the altar walkway near the front gates. With a dramatic lazy swing, the gates opened wide, revealing a squad of highly decorated soldiers. Behind them, engulfed in chains was their prize: the Jue Arter.

Although fearful of him, Geila looked at Habideh, because she could not look at Arter. And though every instinct within her urged her to look at the Jue, she could not.

Arter glanced at the altar that stood before them. A twenty foot wide slab of carved marble, it sat in front of the image of Dagon like an empty plate. Like everything in the coliseum, was huge. Indeed, the entire coliseum was built around the massive 50 foot tall statue of an armed warrior with flat and grossly twisted facial features. His two thick arms held the two main supports of the colliseum in place. Without this feature, such a large structure could not have been built in the first place. No one knew who had carved the enormous statue. Some of the Dagonite Priests whispered that Dagon himself carved the image. To one side of the altar was the Royal booth where Hebideh and his entourage sat. The Dagonite Priests sat in the booth on the other side.

Habideh turned and whispered a few instructions to the Captain of the Army. Soon afterward the Captain left and Habideh stood. The crowd's jeers subsided so the people could listen to their victorious Premiere.

“I welcome all the worshippers of Dagon to his temple this day, for a great wrong done to our peoples has been righted by your Premiere. I present to the families of Dagon, east and west alike, the Jue Arter, who will be our sacrifice to Dagon!”

At that, a cheer that rattled Arter’s chestbones erupted from the crowd. The soldiers behind him shoved him down the ramp into the coliseum, and Arter fell directly before the mammoth stone altar.

With a great effort he hauled himself, heavy chains and all, back onto his feet.

“As he tried to make sport with the people of Dagon, we shall make sport with him.”

Habideh motioned to his sentries.

Suddenly, the wooden gates to the right opened and fanfare sounded as children dressed in the armour and weapons of adult Dagonite soldiers ran onto the coliseum floor. Several tripped and fell, so large was the armour on them, and the crowd laughed. On approaching Arter, the children dropped the heavy shields and swords to pick up sticks and stones to attack him with. Arter tried to turn from each of the projectiles, but he had never trained to evade an enemy. Where his skin at one time defied physical punishment by such objects, it now voluntarily bruised and surrendered his lifeblood on the coliseum floor. The world seemed to lean as more and more rocks found his skull and Arter fell. Soldiers pulled the children back, and the crowd hissed and booed.

The sounds of the brutal attack on Arter caused Geila to look at him for the first time, her pity overcoming her fear, but as she looked down, something in the back of her mind started screaming.

Something was not right. Geila looked more closely. During captivity, Arter's hair had grown; not to its former lengths but clearly past the shoulders. Though she was still seated, Geila felt the strength drain from her legs.

“His hair!” she choked out, grabbing Habideh's sleeve, pointing to the captive beneath them. “His hair's grown back!”

”The Jue is helpless,” Hebideh answered, reclaiming his sleeve. “Our chains hold him secure to the point that children can beat him senseless.”

”His hair is his bond with his God! You...you don't know what he can do!”

“You stupid female! His God has no power in the Temple of Dagon! The heart of Dagon's Army stands guard today. Besides, you need to learn to fear me more than you fear him.”

Geila felt the blood drain from her face. “We’re all dead,” she whispered, staring at her pale reflection in the fine polished floor. Habideh turned back to the festivities, making a mental note to get rid of both the girl and her peasant father after the ceremonies.

Arter's weary mind could take no more. He allowed his body to lie in the dust, and in a moment of self-realization that comes to a man few times during his lifetime, began to cry. Everything that had happened to this point was not the Dagonites' fault.

It was his own.

If he had kept the vows of the Creator, none of this would have happened, he realized. And from deep within, Arter began to pray.

“Lord, Father God...I know now that you didn't fail me...I failed you. I have always been a believer, but I have not always been a follower.”

He turned his head upwards toward the sky, but could only see the towering stone statue of Dagon standing defiantly over him.

“For my sins, Lord God...forgive me. And I pray that if You have within Your mercy to give me one last chance to make amends for my sins, and to avenge my people of the Dagonites, I shall not fail You again.”

And then, the most curious thing happened. In the back of his head, Arter felt two small and sharp clicks. His wounds stopped bleeding. The familiar feeling of air being forced deep into the bottom of his lungs returned and Arter knew his prayers had been answered. He brought himself to his knees in humble thanks to God and then, with what appeared to be a giant shrug of his shoulders, snapped the chains that bound him.

The crowd gasped and then cheered. Their carnal minds, unable to accept the supernatural reality displayed before them, strained to translate the event into something more acceptable. Perhaps Habideh was going to give the Jue a fighting chance...maybe the chains weren’t secured properly. But a few Dagonites began to realize the truth as the entire Royal Guard attacked this one man and they saw finely honed Dagonite swords bounce off bare skin and carved Dagonite arrows shatter on impact against old Jusinan wool.

The snap of soldier's bones could not be heard over the roar of the crowd, but the Premiere realized the imminent danger as his realistic mind acknowledged the situation displayed before him.

“Kill him!” Habideh said, shoving the Captain of the Guard down the stairs, “Kill him now!”

“Stupid Jue!” one spectator laughed, oblivious to his own fate. “He should be trying to escape!”

“Why is he running toward Dagon?” another asked.

“Maybe he thinks Dagon will save him!” the first howled.

Arter climbed onto the large stone platform where Dagon's carved feet stood. Slapping aside the last few guards hounding him, Arter placed one hand on the inside of each huge shin and pushed. The stone defied him, and the crowd’s laughs and jeers echoed all the louder in the colliseum. But Arter’s faith would not be denied by mere marble. He leaned into the effort and small fractures began to appear on the outside of the statues' legs and in one shattering moment, explosive shards of stone shrapnel burst from the statue. Only then did the Dagonite people realize what was happening and understand the unavoidable danger they were in.

The stampede out of the coliseum began, but it was too late. The statue came crashing down, the two strong arms that formerly held the roof aloft pulled it down on the crowd below, destroying the superstructure, collapsing it onto those who were near the exits. Foundational boulders caved in, crushing even the guards who stood outside.

There emerged a lone survivor.

A new man, ushering in a new era...



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MECHALI 3:5

“For I will send a swift witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers,against the false swearers, and against those who oppress the hireling in his wages, the widow and the fatherless, and who turn aside the temporary resident from his right and fear not Me, says the Lord of Hosts.”


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CHAPTER ONE

Of the many mysteries pondered by man, the universe is perhaps the greatest. From the innumerable sights of the Peldoran system to the enticing strands of Respah's Web, night-time skies have continually testified of the immense glory and deep beauty that stretches from horizon to horizon.

Perhaps the greatest of all wonders in the universe is also the rarest: life. For of the countless quantity of celestial objects, only two worlds can boast of life: Ehrets and Earth.

Both worlds are separated by a considerable distance and concealed from each other by a natural rift in space. Both are populated by similar forms of plantlife, aquatic life, animals and men. Both fell to temptation and original sin. And when the Christ appeared, both worlds rejected Him. Religious leaders on both planets conspired against Him and tried to forever silence his message by destroying the physical shell, but on both worlds, a resurrected body claimed victory on the third day. Yet though they share many of the same triumphs and failures, each world has carved its own unique chapters in history.

Only on Earth, for instance, did a world-wide flood shatter the mother continent into smaller land masses and drain the skies of the protective cloud covering that once shielded the surface from radiation. On Ehrets, a continent-wide repentance averted the deadly waters. Thus, its solitary land mass remains intact and to this day, the population of Ehrets has never seen a rainbow outside of a laboratory.

On Earth, the language of the peoples was splintered when they attempted to build a mighty tower to heaven; Ehrets retains the original tongue, changed only slightly by time and dialect.

There is one more significant historical difference: the office of Witness, which is to this day the basis of the global theocratic monarchy on Ehrets, was inaugurated on both worlds to men of similar nature.

But while the original Earth Witness used his power for personal gain and died a blind prisoner, the first Ehrettan Witness repented and used his God-given powers for the liberation of his people. As a result, the powers of the original Ehrettan Witness were augmented and handed down through his descendants to the present monarch, Arno Mataran.

Barely middle aged, Arno retains the sturdy look of his youth even while seated. His garments brand him a man of greatness; his expression reveals a man of deep sorrow.

Report after report are read to him: The rebellion has reached the edge of the Thronecity itself. Military squads and small mobile armament are freely roaming the suburbs, smashing smaller structures to the west, while larger units of armoured infantry attack from the south. His son leads the rebellion, just as he in his earlier years led a rebellion against his own father.



It was not the way of things on Ehrets.


It was just the way of things lately...

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