An Immortals Tale: Part 6

The Man In The Black Suit
Part 6
"It's Only Stupid If It Doesn't Work"

Jon's body was slow to move, taking it's time to react to the giant sword coming down on him. Even his mind seemed to have taken a small break at this more than crucial moment, not bringing forth anything that was of any use at all. In fact he had to remind himself later why he was thinking of recipes for potato salad later, but now he had to act fast. He did the only thing he figured he could do: Work a hunch. Many years ago Jon heard that even a holy man could control the most demonic of creatures with a gesture of a hand and the right incantation. He dismissed it as stupid. Now he racked his brain to figure out what the incantation was. The whole idea seemed ubsurd but he thought after a second, 'It's only stupid if it doesn't work."

His hand shot out, missing the descending blade by a breath and he made the sign of the cross, backwards. Down to up, right to left, then he shouted as quickly as he could while still being understandable, "Creature of the inferno in the name of The Lord I hereby command thee!" His hand was still pointing at the creature, his eyes wide, muscles tense as rocks, and a heavy sword resting it's razor sharp edge against the crown of his head, just above his hair. The world was paused. Then the sword lifted and the demon before him began to take a knee, begrudgingly as it was, but it complied. Jon laughed like a madman while he scrambled to his feet, trying to get the chalky, white dust off his suit. He squatted before the creature and adjusted his hair, his grey eyes focused intensely.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get those sand grains out of a suit like this? We're going to have a little chat now. Depending on your answers you could either walk away from this or your people can come collect you with a sponge." The demon's eyes were filled with hate and ire, staring at the imoortal as it had to obey every word it was told. "Y....Y-yes....Master..." Jon nodded and let the conversation between two things that should not be begin.

"Who sent you?"
"My clan."
"For revenge?"
"For the honor of justice."
"Because I killed your brother, was it?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Did you know your brother along with five others were at a place with a copy of the Devil's bible and the Spear of Tristen?"
The creature hit it's first wall, "......No. But he was doing his duty to-"
"To the one who abandoned your kind here? To the one that cast you out to be slaughtered on the end of the swords of people like me?"
"........There are things you do not understand..."
"Oh? Like the fact that your kind gets promised a thousand times a day to be sent hom in exchange for your servitude? Or that the Templars still hunt you?"
"Like you know anything, puny human!"
"I'm not human. Far from it. I'm older than your entire race. And I know the promises and the subjugation that your kind has suffered, as well. What's your name?"
"....Krevwath....."
"Okay, Krevwath. Here's the sixty thousand dollar question: What do you know about the ones buying up all the realty the old graveyards stand on?"
"Only one thing...."
"Go on."
"They're human."

Jon stood up and nodded his head, his hand coming up to rub his smoothly shaved chin, deep in thought. Humans mean more trouble than misguided demons and their silly, ancient beliefs. And now he had a solid clue to stand upon as well as the addresses of the graveyards. Money had to be flowing as well as the land moving. He needed to speak to a banker. Usually there'd be some odd nomenclenture that came with the entire banker premise, but this time it was just a banker. Then the issue of the giant, horned, revenge seeking demon at his feet came back around.

Again he squatted before Krevwath and looked deep into the burnt brown eyes of the demon, "You'll not get your revenge today. Or any day. For that matter you no longer serve the one below. You serve me. Now. Go back to your normal life before this quest and I'll summon you when I need you, Krevwath. This is not a mercy. This is my way of showing you the truth of what it is you're claiming to want. Stand and go forth." Jon stood up as did the demon. It stared at Jon for a while then sneered and snorted it's disapproval for all the things Jon had just said. Then it turned, sheathed the giant sword, and walked away.

'Zealots.' Jon thought. 'They make the world blind.' Jon restarted his inturrupted walk to the curb again and his phone chimed, alerting him of new messages. Fingers now wide awake with adrenaline and a mind working a million miles an hour pulled the phone out and checked the newly received news. It was an email from Ricky, the vampiric bartender, with the subject line "Brutal Murder On Capital Street". Jon's face twisted into a puzzled expression as he opened the message and read the first line. Then he froze. The line was plain and easy to read and Jon knew what it meant
.
"Michael Larotche, private banker, gunned down in front of business on capital street."
For once the immortal was behind the line, the enemy a step ahead. And that's never a good way to start a fight. If humanity stood a chance Jon needed to even the odds, and quick. He'd need more than a vial of holy water to do it, so he closed the email and switched to his contact list, scrolled down and hit dial. "Hey there, Peter. I'm going to need some stuff. Be there tonight." He flagged down a passing cab and hung up on the contact named 'Armory'.

An Immortals Tale: Part 4

The Man in the Black Suit
Part 4
"This world is old and so am I"

The wall between the three kingdoms had been breached, artifacts that shouldn't be in the hands of amateurs were, and the devils Bible was here. This was a situation that was bleak at best. So Jon sat in his chair in the middle of his apartment, amongst his books, thinking on the past, trying to remember the last time this sort of thing happened.

Like an encyclopedia he ran through all his encounters in the order they happened, cataloguing anew all the information and events from his past. But nothing connected thoroughly, just bits and pieces, faces and names, parts of Scripture. The farther he went back the harder it was to find anything of relevance. Three days passed as he sat, the world outside moving as usual, the thousands of people unaware of the dangers that possibly lurked in the shadows with plans of....That was it. Jon remembered.

It was right before King Arthur took power in England. Somewhere around 470 A.D. It had been a harsh winter, the snow had killed many and many more sick, England was in dismay and seeking salvation. Twelve men rode horses a few miles outside of London, the countryside still cold although the cities had begun to warm. The night was cold, but it wasn't biting, and the moon hung full overhead.Heavy brown burlap robes cloaked ten of the men and the other two wore peasents clothing. One was young and had blonde hair, the other a man in his thirties with close cropped brown hair and grey eyes. They rode at the front of the two columned train of men and beast.

The young blonde spoke with curiosity and wonder, "Father Jon? How am I to save England?" Jon smiled at the boy and sighed deeply, preparing an explanation. "Well, young ward, there's a sword in an anvil atop a stone, ran through like a Knight ill suited at his job." He smiled and the blonde boy laughed a little, then Jon further explained, "The local folk and even some of the royal court believe that the bearer of that sword is the one and true King of England, chosen by God, himself. And you, my boy, are going to retrieve that sword." The young lad thought a moment then turned back to the Father. "But Father you didn't answer my question."

Jon laughed out loud and hard, "You are a clever boy, aren't you?" The boy beamed with pride. "Okay, okay. Like me, young ward, you've been in the care of the church and we have raised you with the love of God in your heart. With that sword in your hands and a crown upon your head you will help restore faith in God back into the people of this land. That's how, my boy." The ward sat contemplative upon his horse. Jon smiled and nodded, having sated the boys curiosity for now. But before the silence could last the boy asked another question. "Father Jon. Does heaven really exist and if it does...will I have a name there?" Jon expressed his appreciation for the question. He looked back at the ten men behind them, the only visible under the heavy burlap was a silver cross that reflected the moonlight. Then he turned back to the boy. "Yes it does. And though we cannot see it we live in Eden every day. God is all around us and so is the eternal heaven that he lives in. And you have a name, my boy. Your name is Arthur." Young Arthur chuckled and stifled his laughter, checking that the monks behind him didn't hear. "My name...is Arthur!" The young man was so happy silent tears ran down his rosy cheeks and into his wide smile. Jons spirits rose in seeing the delight that gave his young ward, something everyone took for granted so often: A name.

Arthur let the silence finally longer, the weight of his name settling in. The crisp night would hold some new and interesting things yet, Jon thought to himself. Arthur and his smile turned back to Jon, "Please, Father, tell me more about heaven. Why do you say we walk in Eden every day?" Jon nodded his agreement and chose a path of an easy to understand story for the boy, "This world is old, young Arthur, and so am I. Already I've existed for more than 300 years, living as a man, passing the word of God and the world we live in much, much older than even I can fathom. And I'm quite clever. Once. Far before you were born. There was a man who tried to unite heaven and earth. It ended very badly. But. In that very bad act we learned good knowledge: The kingdom of heaven is around us." Arthur didn't seem to understand, so Jon went further into explanation.

"The world is not what you think, Arthur. Heaven and earth and the inferno all exist. And they exist here, all at the very same time we do. But. There's a wall between the three kingdoms." The blonde haired boy looked at Jon with wide eyes, "Kingdoms?" Jon nodded and continued, "Yes, kingdoms. And as long as they are separate we can live in peace. Any breach of that wall and bad things will happen." Arthur drank the whole thing in, the horse beneath him walking a steady pace, then he asked, "Father Jon...If heaven falls to earth what happens to us?" Jon took a moment and decided the best answer was the truth. His tone was cold and hard, "We burn."

The words sent a shiver through the young lad. And he spoke with determination and courage in his juvenile voice. "If I'm to be king...I'll be sure to keep the three kingdoms separate and ensure that heaven remain standing. And I'll guard the gates of heaven and earth alike and make certain no one tries to combine them again." Jon offered the boy a sincere smile and a nod of approval. "Well said, Arthur. But first. Let's get you that blasted sword, yeah?" Arthur nodded and faced forward. "Father, you're very old." Jon winked and from then on the twelve men rode in silence.

Back in his apartment Jon smiled a sad smile for his long lost ward, and said a small prayer that heaven received their protector well. But. Arthur reminded him then and now what was afoot: Someone was trying to unite the three kingdoms.