Dawn is Coming

By Ardy

My name is Peter. My story begins like so many others I have heard. Living all of my life in the Kingdom of Morningstar, I never thought that anything was wrong. I knew that it was always dark, always night, and that I was always sad. I didn't like it, but I could never change it. All my life I had heard the rumors about Dawn, but Dawn was a myth. If Morningstar heard of anybody propagating that myth, they would be killed. But when that old man dragged me into that ally outside of my favorite tavern and told me that a change was coming, that Dawn was coming, I found myself believing him. Soon, I was caught up in an underground movement that was quickly becoming an army that would dethrone Morningstar and bring the True King back to power after a thousand years. The next thing I knew, I was leading this army, General of Generals, and found myself standing face to face with the false king. Through doubts and betrayals, losses, defeats, and temptations, I never lost sight of the goal. The True King would come, set everything right in the world, and finally, after a thousand years of darkness, awaken the Dawn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ardy
• Release date: May 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476154305

Ardy

I live in Northern New Mexico. My biggest influences include Stephen King, C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, Frank Peretti, and Trey Parker. I write mainly fantasy, science fiction, and horror, often with a Christian slant.Some of the things I write are just for fun, like most of my free short stories, which I will continue to produce as long as these interesting, and sometimes quite messed up ideas keep popping into my head. Some things I write because I feel that they are important. I don't intend to be preachy and try not to insert messages into my writing unless I forewarn the reader that they'll be there. My main intentions with my works are to entertain the reader, make the reader think, and sometimes just to give them a good little scare.Two things seem to creep into my writing often. One is my faith. The other is my proclivity for horror, which even rears its ugly head in my Christian pieces.Check my blog for special coupons and discounts that will be available exclusively at smashwords.com.I appreciate any review, and please be honest.

Book preview

Dawn is Coming

Ardy

Published by Ardybooks at Smashwords

Copyright 2012

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is for all of those who supported and encouraged me as I wrote it, and who helped me in the process. Most of you have characters named after you, but for those who don't: Thanks to Larry Smith, Anita, and my mother.

PART ONE: A CHANGE IS COMING

ONE: Questions at the Bar

It was dark.

That was no surprise. It was always dark, and I mean always. But ever since last night's encounter with that crazy old man, the world I had been so used to seemed dark for the first time. It was like a child being taught where his ears or his nose were. He always knew where they were in a way, unconsciously, but before his mother pointed at them and said, Right there! There's your nose, there's your ears, he never really thought about them. Afterwards, it was inevitable. There's my nose, the child would think, and he would never be able to forget it.

Don't you realize that the world is dark? that old man had asked me, urgently clutching to my arm with his pale, bony fingers.

Honestly, I had never thought about it. Asking me if I realized the world was dark was like asking me if I knew I was breathing.

It's always dark, I had replied absently with the same voice that I'd used years ago in school. Cows moo, I had told my teacher, dogs bark, cats meow, and it's always dark. That was a little poem we had been taught since infancy- things are the way they are.

Now, sitting there at that bar (that dark bar), I was unable to shake the feeling that had risen in me when that old man said his next sentence:

It shouldn't be.

Can I get you something'? the bartender asked, drawing me back to the present.

Yeah, I said. Just a beer.

As the balding fat bartender poured my drink into a mug, I looked around the tavern. As usual, it was crowded. There were ten tables and fifteen stools at the bar, all full. People were laughing, joking, drinking, carousing. Some were travelers, their clothes still smelling of the forest, some were merchants, buying drinks with the money they had made from their day in the marketplace, and some were soldiers, swords worn proudly on their belts, using both their size and their black uniforms to intimidate the others in the tavern. More than one was slumped face down on their tables, sometimes even bleeding, while the others went about their business uncaring. Whores made their rounds, unashamedly looking for work from men too drunk to recall their own names. And I noticed something I had never noticed before: None of the smiles, the laughter, or the appearances of happiness were genuine. There was something in everyone's eyes, something that reflected the darkness of the world.

Don't you realize that you're sad? the old man had asked me.

I'm always sad, I said. I repeated this now at the bar, just above a whisper. I'm always sad.

Well, son, the bartender said, smiling that fake smile and putting a beer down on the bar in front of me, that's what this is for.

I paid and thanked him. I took a small sip of my drink, letting the bitter flavor rest on my tongue before I swallowed it.

You do not know what you are missing, the old man had said. He didn't say this like he was trying to get me to try something new. He said it plainly, matter-of-factly. I was missing something, but I really had no idea what that something was.

You try to fill yourself, he had told me. "You try to fulfill yourself, and no matter what you try; drink, sex, violence, money, power, you end up feeling even more empty than before."

I called him a crazy old man, and that's what I was trying to tell myself that he was, even at the bar twenty-four hours later, but I knew better. His words had rung true. He had begun to touch something in me I never knew was there. But, like the darkness and the sadness, the deep longing I felt, that I had always felt, was undeniable.

I took another sip of my beer, another attempt to fill that emptiness. For the first time since I had begun drinking more than ten years earlier, it tasted truly bitter to me. I almost gagged and spat it out, but I forced it down and put the mug back on the bar.

Good stuff, huh? the bartender said laughing. His laughter was a hollow sound.

I nodded, my nod no more genuine than his smile, and looked around the torch lit tavern again. I knew in my heart that the old man was not crazy. This world was crazy. This dark world where no one really laughed, or really loved, or really did anything but hurt.

I got up to leave when I felt a hand press on my shoulder and gently push me back onto the wooden barstool.

Where do you think you're going? a woman seductively cooed in my ear.

Lucy, I said, without even false enthusiasm in my tone. I turned to see one of the bar's many prostitutes, one I knew quite well actually, standing there smiling at me. She ran her right hand through my long hair as her left rested still on my shoulder. She was dressed, as usual, in a low cut white blouse and a black skirt that barely reached her knees.

I missed you last night, Lucy said. Her full red lips faked a pout, somehow more real than her smile had been, and her long red hair fell in front of her green eyes as she bent to kiss me.

I didn't kiss her back and she backed off a few inches, confused.

What's the matter? she asked.

Nothing, I lied. I wanted to tell her the truth, that everything was the matter, that the whole world was the matter, but I would sound as crazy to her as that old man had sounded to me. I didn't come last night because I was sick, I told her. That was true. After that old man had stopped me on the street and told me all of those insane things, I had felt ill. My next statement was just as true: I guess I still haven't recovered. I stood, this time not letting her push me back down. I think I'd better go.

Lucy pouted again, this time a real pout, but relented.

Okay, she said. But if you're feeling better tomorrow night, you'd better be here. She smiled coyly and bent to whisper in my ear. We've got some unfinished business, you and me.

We'll see, I told her, knowing that Lucy's unfinished business was just another way to try and fill that emptiness. As with the countless times before it, it would prove to be in vain.

Promise me, she said, the pout returning.

We'll see, I said again.

I left the Morningstar Street Tavern that night both knowing and not knowing where I was going to go.

TWO: Questions Outside the Bar

The night before, I had actually been only ten feet from the Morningstar Street Tavern, my usual bar, when I felt that old, bony hand grasp my forearm. An old man dressed in a dark brown robe pulled me aside and my first thought was that he was going to rob me, or at least pull me into an alley where someone else would. My second thought was that he was a beggar and I looked as good a mark as any. Either way, my response would have been appropriate:

I don't have much money.

I don't care! he said, his grip tightening and his voice urgent.

That what do you want? I asked. He didn't respond at first. He actually did pull me into the alley beside the tavern, but there were no robbers waiting there.

The old man looked into my eyes and I was struck by what I saw. It was like seeing something in real life you had only ever seen in pictures. It was as if I had just seen my first real mountain after only ever seeing mountains doodled on bar napkins. His eyes seemed genuine.

Don't you realize that the world is dark? he asked.

It's always dark, I laughed. I almost even quoted the old child's poem.

It shouldn't be. He said this with such authority that I stopped laughing immediately.

What are you saying, old man? I wanted to get away from him. I wanted to go into the bar and drink enough liquor so that I could barely remember my own name. I wanted to see my old childhood friend Lucy, who had grown up into a beautiful woman; a beautiful whore. I wanted to run away from this old fool.

Don't you realize that you're sad? he asked me.

I was not as quick in answering this one. I hadn't realized I was sad. It wasn't a tangible thing like the world's darkness, but thinking about it for the first time, I knew. I wasn't just sad, I was miserable.

I'm always sad, I said, trying to sound as sure of myself as I had been when I had said it was always dark. Even I knew I wasn't pulling it off. My voice shook with the first sign of the tears that would come later.

He told me that I didn't know what I was missing. He told me something I already knew, but had never acknowledged: that my life was just an endless quest to try to fill a deep emptiness that I could never fill. I thought about my drinking. I thought about Lucy. I knew he was right.

You're wrong! I told him instead. You crazy old man! You're a fool!

You don't believe that, he said, anymore than you believe that the world should be dark or that you should be miserable. You don't believe that anymore than you believe your drink and your whore will fulfill you.

Then he said the three words that would change my life forever:

Dawn in coming!

Dawn is a myth! I replied, finally pulling away from his grip.

You do not believe that either, he said as I began to walk away. I stopped and turned back to him

You better watch what you say, old man, I warned him. If the king found out...

Morningstar's time is nearing its end, he said. He handed me a piece of parchment. It was torn and old. On one side was printed Dawn is coming and the other side was a crudely drawn map of an old, particularly dangerous part of the city. A star marked one of the houses. Meet me there tomorrow at this time, he said.

I could turn you in, I told him, holding the paper like a soiled rag. If I had been caught holding this parchment, I would have been executed without question.

You won't, the old man said.

How do you know that? I asked, trying to sound indignant.

Because you know I'm right.

THREE: The Dark Streets

Even now, thinking back on it, I'm not sure if I did or not. He was convincing, that was for sure, and the feeling I had gotten when I looked into his eyes would not leave me. Part of me still thought that he was insane.

But I hadn't turned him in. I could have. It was a capital crime to speak of Dawn in any way other than to condemn the idea. Morningstar's who I walk with- He's our light and Dawn's a myth. Another childhood poem. For the first time in my life I realized how indoctrinated I had been. As I walked the dark streets, I wondered how many other things that I had been told might not be true. How many truths were no more genuine than the smiles and laughter of the people I passed.

I walked the dark streets of Pergamum, the capitol and largest city in the Kingdom of Morningstar, aimlessly, or so it seemed. The city was huge and I could have literally walked for hours without covering the same ground twice. Pergamum, with a population of nearly one hundred fifty thousand people, was also a highly fortified city. It was located in a very defensible place in a valley between the Morningstar Mountains in the south and some large nameless hills to the north, beyond Outlaw Forest. It was sandwiched between high cliffs to the east and the west. It was also surrounded by a large, impenetrable wall whose four gates could be shut tight, closing off every point of entrance and exit.

As I walked, part of me knew exactly where I was headed, but I would not even admit it to myself. I was out for a stroll, I told myself. I needed to think about some things, and even though it was crazy, I tried to convince myself that best place to do this thinking was on the dangerous dark streets of this violent city. I was alone, which was foolish. I was unarmed, which was even more foolish.

I can still remember almost every detail, from the strange hairless spot on a street rat that scurried away from me to the freckles on the nose of the little beggar girl to whom I gave three coins. That girl smiled and I thought that her smile was the first genuinely happy one I had seen in a very long time. Somehow children, even a poor beggar child, had true happiness. I thought with despair that it wouldn't be long before she too was always sad. How long had it been since I had stopped really smiling? I couldn't remember.

I remember how the flames of the torches (those torches that never went out because the world was always dark) danced and crackled. I remember the absolute paranoid dread I felt when I saw a group of soldiers patrolling the streets, even though I wouldn't even admit to myself where I was headed.

I remember watching out for thieves and criminals, seeing a few men who could easily fit the description, and wondering why they left me alone. I remember the old toothless prostitute who wouldn't have tempted me even if I had been looking for one.

The old man had directed me to Nalsa Street and I had just seen the street sign when I heard the sound of approaching hooves and wooden wheels rolling along the cobblestone road. I looked back, always wary of my surroundings when on the streets, and saw that the approaching carriage was a very familiar vehicle. It was a taxi from the Fifth Street Taxi Service, my place of employment. The man at the reins was George, a coworker of mine.

I was suddenly very afraid of being seen by someone I knew. Though I wasn't doing anything illegal (yet) I still felt like I needed to cover my actions. The building I was closest to had a stone stoop which I quickly jumped behind. There in the shadows, I watched as George drove the taxi on, completely unaware of my presence.

I remember the fear that washed over me when I saw George and the relief I felt when he was gone and I could go back onto the street and keep going.

But mostly, I remember that door.

I don't remember it because it was anything special. It was just a large wooden door on a small wooden building, just far enough from any torches to keep it forever in the shadows. The finish was worn down with age and in some places from repeated knocking. But what sticks out in my memory is the address number. Painted in the center of the door, just below a little slide-away wooden window that would allow the house's occupants to peek out at me, was the number 320.

I looked at the parchment I had forgotten I was holding and saw that number of the house that was marked on the old man's map was 320. A look at the street name, Nalsa, confirmed it. That was the first time since leaving the bar that I allowed myself to realize that I had followed the old man's map.

FOUR: Inside the House

Looking back, I don't know if I was reluctant or eager when I knocked on that door. I know it sounds strange, but I only remember the knock.

Go away! came a shout from the other side of the door almost immediately after I knocked. The voice was not the old man's. I almost did go away, but something told me that if I left, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

I saw this old man last night, I began.

The city is full of old men! came the reply.

He gave me a piece of parchment, I said.

A map? the voice asked.

Yeah, I said.

Hold it up, the voice ordered, map side facing you. And close your eyes!

I did. While my eyes were closed I heard the slide-away window open and close just long enough for whoever was on the other side to read the three words written on the opposite side of the map.

I heard the door open and opened my eyes in time to see a man a few years older than me reach out and yank me in so hard I thought he would pull my arm off. For a moment I was afraid that he was a soldier and that the whole thing was a ruse to trap anybody who believed in Dawn and arrest them. I had heard of such plots before.

Then I got a look into the man's eyes and saw the same genuineness that I had seen in the old man the night before. He slammed the door shut behind us and set about searching my body for weapons.

Then the old man came into the room.

Well? he asked.

He's clean, the other man reported.

Of course he is, the old man said. Do you think that I would allow a man to come here if I did not trust him?

The younger man accepted this with a silent nod and returned to his post: a wooden stool by the door.

I got my first look at the room. It was small, barely furnished with two chairs, a small stone table on which sat three lit candles, and the stool on which the younger man sat. And I noticed almost immediately that there was no image of Morningstar. This was the first room that I had ever been in without one.

The door that the old man had come through was covered by a red curtain. Red curtains also covered the windows.

The old man gripped my arm, but the hold was gentle, almost fatherly, and he smiled a real smile at me.

Welcome to my home, he said. I knew you would come.

How did you know, sir? I asked,

The same way that I knew I could trust you when I saw you last night, he said. The same way I knew by looking at you that you were ready for what I told you. That you were searching for answers to questions that you hadn't even thought to ask.

I laughed, causing the younger man to glance suspiciously at me, and said, You're still a crazy old man.

Now he laughed. And you still don't believe that!

Can I ask you a question, sir? I asked him.

John, he told me. My name is John. And yes, ask your question.

Where are your images of the king? I asked.

You mean Morningstar? he replied. So, you've noticed that I have no pictures or statues. That's because I do not honor Morningstar.

But he is the king! I said, and as I said it I realized that I didn't believe that ingrained statement either.

He is no king, John said, but he did not say this harshly or angrily. He said it as if explaining it to a child. At least no king of mine. He is a liar and an imposter who has kept this world in darkness for far too long. He paused, and I'm sure he saw the horribly shocked look on my face. But all that can wait, my friend. First, tell me your name. You have risked your life coming to my home here and I don't even know your name.

My name is Peter, I said.

Come, Peter, he said, guiding me towards the door covered by the red curtain. You have much to learn.

He led me past the curtain into another room. He pulled back a rug to reveal a small trap door just large enough for a grown man to squeeze through. Without a word, he pulled it open. There was a wooden ladder descending into a large room lit by the warm orange glow of torches.

Go on, Peter, John said. I'll be right behind you.

I hesitated.

No one is going to hurt you, the old man assured me. You trust me, don't you?

Yes, I said. I didn't know why, but I did trust John. At this point, I would have trusted him with my life. Taking a deep breath as if I were preparing to dive into a pool of water, I went through the trap door and down the ladder. John followed me and closed the door above us.

The ladder went down nearly twenty feet and I stepped onto a floor of dirt and gravel. As John climbed down, understandably slowly considering he must have been over eighty years old, I got a look around the place.

It was a huge underground chamber. It must have been dug out of the earth under at least three of the neighboring houses. The walls were dirt and rock and the ceiling was the underside of the floors above. Swords, shields, spears, and bows and arrows lined one wall. Torches were mounted on the walls every ten feet or so. It was surprisingly well lit for a room illuminated only by small, dim torches.

There were for men in the room sitting cross-legged on the floor in a semi-circle. A fifth stood above them with a large sword sheathed on his belt. He was the only man armed. The four on the floor had the look I would have expected to see on my face: bewilderment, wonder, and a small amount of fear.

The last man invited has arrived, John said to them. He turned to me. Sit, Peter. It's time to learn the Truth.

FIVE: A History Lesson

I sat with the four men on the floor and John stood facing us.

What I'm about to say to you, he began, "you've probably never heard before. You may not believe me, though part of you already does or you wouldn't be sitting here now.

"My sons and I walk the streets some nights looking for men like you; men who are disillusioned with the world around them. Either I or one of my sons asked you last night if you realized that the world was dark. It's one thing to know that the world is dark, it's quite another to realize it. You are here tonight because of that realization. My sons and I approach very few people, even fewer do we speak to of Dawn, and last night only five men, you five, were invited here."

But how did you know? the man next to me asked. It was a question I was about to ask, and from the looks of the other men, I would guess that they were about to as well.

My King told me I would know you, John said.

I assume you don't mean Morningstar, I said. I wondered how many of the others had heard his opinion of the king.

Morningstar trembles at the very thought of my King, John said, both triumphantly and reverently.

But who is your King? another man asked.

Let me start at the beginning, John said. Over a thousand years ago the world was a very different place. It was ruled by a kind and benevolent, although very strong and powerful King, the only true King that the world has ever known. In those days, and I mean days for there was no everlasting night as we now have, violence was rare, despair even rarer. Every morning there was a dawn and every night the world slept in peace. I know that such a world is hard to imagine, but you have all said that you trust me and I swear to you that what I am saying is true.

The same thoughts-this man is crazy- went through my head, but deep down, I knew that he was telling the Truth. Somehow, the same way I had known the night before that John wasn't insane, I knew now that he wasn't just telling us a story. He was telling us history. It was a history I had never been told, but it rang more true to me than all I had been taught it school as a child.

But what happened? I asked John. Why is the world the way it is?

Because of a war, John said. "The True King had an army, though no war had ever been fought. The army kept the peace and protected the people from anything that could have possibly attacked. Little did anyone know that the first war would be a civil war. There was a general, the highest ranking general in the kingdom and one of the King's closest friends. This general became jealous of the King and of how the people loved him. He told himself that he should be the king, and since he was a strong warrior and a valiant man a lot of people agreed.

I'll bet you can guess this general's name, John said.

Morningstar, said the man next to me.

That's right, John said. Morningstar and a third of the army marched against the King and that treacherous general tried to assume the throne.

Did he succeed? I asked. If this King of yours was so powerful, how could Morningstar have overcome him?

He did not, John said, "at least not militarily. But Morningstar is a deceiver as well as a traitor. Even though he lost the war, he was somehow able to convince a vast majority of the King's subjects that he, Morningstar, should be king. He made promises he had no way of keeping. He spread lies throughout the kingdom about the King and his followers. He convinced them that he meant to give them freedom, whereas their True King intended to keep them as little more than slaves.

So Morningstar was defeated in the war, but it only served to enrage those loyal to him. They demanded that the True King step down and desired to serve Morningstar instead.

What did the King do? another man asked.

What could he do? John replied. He was powerful and strong, but he was also fair. He could have destroyed Morningstar and the rebels easily, but he loved his subjects too much to simply wipe them out. But he didn't want to rule a kingdom of subjects who didn't want him, so he let Morningstar take the throne.

He surrendered? I asked aghast. He stepped down?

No, John said. He stepped aside. The throne is still his, but he allows Morningstar to sit there now, pretending to be a king. There were still many loyal to the True King and he promised them that he would return one day to reclaim his throne. He warned Morningstar that his time was short. When he left the kingdom this eternal night fell, but he promised that Dawn would come.

But if the kingdom doesn't want him, the man next to me said, how can he reclaim the throne?

That's a good question, John said. But you must remember the second the question I asked you.

Don't you realize that you're sad? I quoted.

Exactly, John said. The whole world, everyone in the kingdom, everyone under the harsh rule of Morningstar is sad. When he said the word sad he said it in such a way that it actually summed up the absolute misery we all lived with. Three little letters and a simple word, but coming from John's mouth, sad meant so much more.

You see, John continued, "Morningstar took the throne and night fell, a night unlike any night before it. This night, this endless, perpetual darkness, reflects that monster's soul; dark, cold, unredeemable. And as the world soon discovered, unpleasant, unwelcome, and unbearable.

"Morningstar knew that it wouldn't be long before the world began to resent him. Soon, those who had desired him as their king would realize that he was a liar, a traitor, and a tyrant. They remembered the day. They longed for the day. The longed for Dawn! Those loyal to the True King began to proclaim that he would return to call down curses on Morningstar. He was losing control.

"So he fought back. He may not have had the people's love, but he had his army. Anyone who spoke against him was arrested, anyone who spoke of Dawn was tortured and killed. Parents who were disloyal lost their children. It was mandated that the people glorify Morningstar and teach their children to do so from infancy. Love for Morningstar, though not felt by the parents, was taught to the children. After a generation or two, it even began to be genuine.

And then there's the sorry state of our world! John almost spat. "The True King was good. Is good. Under his rule people were safe, happy, and free. Morningstar is evil, so he set out to undo every good thing that the True King had established. He called good 'evil' and evil 'good.' That is why there are more bars than houses in some areas, more brothels than any man could ever visit in his lifetime in one city. That's why you are unable to walk the streets safely. He taught his subjects to be evil and they are. All of them! Even you!"

This should have enraged us. An old man brought us down to his basement to defame our beloved king and then had the audacity to call us evil. But I wasn't angry. I didn't recognize the emotion that I did feel. Looking back at it, I'd have to say that I felt... convicted. Someone was pointing a finger at me and I had no defense. All I could do was agree. I was evil. I looked at the others and none of them appeared angry either. Two of them were actually crying.

Why did you tell us this? one of them asked. We know you're telling the truth. At least I'm sure of it, and if any of these others doubt it, let them say so... Nobody? Right! Because you are right. But to bring us down here, to tell us these things, to tell us that we are evil and serving a liar; what was the purpose?

I have already told you why, John said. Dawn is coming!

SIX: You are to be generals!

We sat there in silence, taking it all in. There were a few sounds: the torches crackling, seven men breathing, and an occasional sob. I could tell by the look in John's eyes that he had a lot more to say, but his entire message was summed up in those three words, Dawn is coming, words which would get him executed most painfully if he spoke them aloud in public. If his talk of Morningstar and our own depravity filled me with despair, it was those three words which kept me from going to the wall where the weapons hung, picking up the sharpest of the swords, and running myself through.

Finally, John broke the silence.

Dawn is coming, he said again, then continued, but before that, a war is coming. The True King is preparing to take back his throne. That imposter's time is finally at hand and soon he will be destroyed. Morningstar is strong, but as before, he will lose.

And we will be there to witness this! the man next to me said. For the first time since I could remember, somebody sounded truly hopeful.

You will not be a witness, James, John said. You will be an instrument!

What do you mean 'an instrument'? I asked.

The King is coming with an army the likes of which Morningstar could never match, John told us, and he is recruiting.

James looked to the wall with the weapons. We are to be soldiers. He wasn't asking.

My friends, John said, you are to be generals!

SEVEN: The Gift of Light

It was late evening when I had arrived at John's house. The four men and I didn't leave until the next morning.

Only one of us had had any military experience. This was an older man named Andrew. The rest of us had never held a sword in battle before. When James asked John how men like us could lead an army he told us not to worry.

Remember how I told you that my King said I would know you, the old man asked. Last night I wasn't looking for just anybody. I was looking for his generals.

We had taken him at his word concerning everything else, so we believed him now. Somehow, an old retired soldier and four young men (of whom I at twenty-five was the youngest) who had no military experience would be generals in the greatest army the world had ever seen.

We spent the night learning more about the True King, Morningstar, and the war to come. The King had amassed his army at the edge of the kingdom, but Morningstar knew nothing about it. We were to go about recruiting troops for our branch of this mighty force, much the way John and his two sons (who were David, the man at the door, and Jonathan, the man who stood with the sword in the underground chamber, both also generals) had done with us.

But how will we know? James asked.

My King, John said, then he paused, considering, "our King has assured me. You will know."

That didn't really answer our question at all, but it seemed to be good enough. No one, including myself, doubted that the old man was right. We would know our soldiers when we saw them the same way John had known us.

Then Andrew asked, After the True King arrives, will the world rally to his side, or will they stay loyal to Morningstar?

Sadly, John said, many have been so deceived by Morningstar and his damnable lies that they would choose him over the True King, even after it is clear who will win the war. They mistake their slavery to evil for freedom and will believe that when the True King finally frees them from the evil they will be his slaves. Many will fight against us.

But how could that be? I asked. Surely if we told them the truth, they'd come over to our side. How could they refuse?

How could the world have chosen Morningstar in the first place? John replied. He didn't make the world evil, but he knew men's potential for it. He fed those desires we didn't even know we had and made us think that was what we really wanted all along. In a way, he was right. But he will lose and those who continue to support him will be punished along with him.

It was almost morning and John told us we would have to rest and then come back the next day to learn more.

But first, he said, I have a gift for you. You have been asking me how you will know who you can or cannot approach. It is time for me to bestow this power upon you the same way it was bestowed on me by the King. Gather around me.

John stood in the center of the chamber and we stood around him in a semi-circle, Andrew in the center, me on his right, James on his left, and the other two men, Thomas and Nathanael, next to us.

John held out his hands toward us. Almost immediately light shone from them. Up until that moment the only light that I had ever seen came from fires and the stars and the moon which tried pathetically to illuminate the world. But now I saw light as I had never seen before. It was like John was holding two stars, one in each hand, and the light was so bright that I had to close my eyes against it.

What magic is this? I heard Andrew ask.

It is the power of your True King, John replied. Open your eyes. It shall not hurt you.

I did, as did the others who had all had the same reaction to John's light. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust.

Do not be afraid, John told us. I am going to touch this light to your foreheads and you will receive the same power that I have. When you see a person, you will know at once how receptive he'll be to our message. This is just one benefit of the Gift of Light, but I haven't the time to tell you of its full potential. Stand ready.

Nathanael was first, John touched his forehead with both glowing hands. Nathanael gasped and fell back a few steps. Then John did the same with James, then Andrew. Both had the same reaction. I flinched when John looked to me with his smiling old face aglow with the light his hands were emitting.

Don't be afraid, Peter, he said, it won't hurt.

As much as I trusted him, I didn't believe that. I was sure that this would hurt, but I braced myself and stood ready.

Go ahead, John. I'm ready.

He raised his hands to my forehead and touched me. I gasped, but not in pain. It felt as if currents were flowing through my entire body. Instead of pain, it felt almost like ecstasy. The light from John's hands flooded my eyes and, so it felt, my body. If I had seen myself, I would not have been surprised if beams of the white light were flowing from my fingers and toes.

Then it was over and, like the others, I fell back a couple of steps. I opened my eyes to see John touch Thomas. I was surprised to see that what had felt like an eternity actually took no longer than three seconds. I was also amazed to see light coming from every man in the place. It didn't have the brilliance of the light with which John had touched us, but there was a definite glow coming from the exposed skin of their faces and hands.

This glow we see, James said, Was this always here?

Those close to the True King glow in this way, John replied. "But only those upon whom this gift is bestowed can see it. Last night, I saw powerful glows on each of you. You didn't know it, but you were all close to knowing the Truth. Now your glows are much stronger.

And from now until Dawn comes, you will be able to see this glow on others. You will be able to tell those who are already followers of the King because they will glow as you and I do, and by the glows you'll be able to see how receptive those you may approach are. Anyone who does not glow will not be receptive. This is important- do not approach anyone without the glow!

Are they without hope? I asked.

Not necessarily, John said. "Some may be, but others may still be turned. For now, do not approach anybody unless you are sure, and even then, be very cautious.

I will see you tomorrow night.

EIGHT: Another General

The five of us left John's house one by one and went our own ways. As much as we wanted to stay together and talk about all that we had learned the night before, five men coming out of the old man's house at once might have seemed suspicious. Besides, there would be plenty of time to talk when we returned to John's house that night.

I lived in a small room that I rented from a fair old man. The large stone building housed about fifty people, including three or four families. Everyone got a room with a warm bed, a table and chair, a small closet, a window overlooking the street, and one communal washroom per sex on each floor. It was actually a lot nicer than it sounds and Homer, the man I rented from, could have charged double what he did. But he often asked why he would need all that extra money? Some people needed a decent place to stay and didn't have the means to pay what most other landlords charged.

So I wasn't surprised when I saw Homer that morning and there was a distinctive glow coming from him. He was going out to the market when I got to the porch of the building. His glow wasn't as bright as that of the men I had been with the night before, but it was clearly there. He would probably be very receptive to my newfound message.

Good morning, Homer, I said as I climbed the stairs. We met halfway up the eight stair stoop and shook hands as we often did.

Just getting in, are ya'? Homer said. His old face smiled, an almost genuine one. Had a late night, eh?

You could say that, I said.

Ah, to be young again, Homer said laughing. When I was your age... he trailed off, gazing at the dark sky. Anyway, I'd better get out before the market gets swamped with people. Have a nice day, Peter.

You too, I said, returning his friendly smile. As Homer headed down the street towards the city market I seriously considered telling him about the True King and Dawn. But, I thought, how good of a soldier would such an old man make? He was nearly ninety years old and made John seem young. But then again, I thought about how effective John was being. Maybe Homer couldn't fight in the army, but he could serve the King in other ways. I decided that I would talk to him later, but first I needed to sleep. I could barely keep my eyes open. Fortunately, I didn't have to work that day.

I went into the building and up to the third floor where I lived. I walked slowly down the torch lit hallway. There were two people, a man and a woman, walking towards me arm in arm. It was obvious that the woman was a prostitute who had been procured for the night before and was now being escorted out. I knew this man and he frequented the local brothels quite often. Neither of them had any trace of a glow.

But two children who ran past me out to the street did. Their glows were even brighter than Homer's. I was reminded of the beggar girl I had seen on the way to John's house and of how genuine her smile was. Perhaps children were closer to the Truth than the rest of us. Maybe that's why Morningstar was so adamant about forcing them to love him.

I got to my room and unlocked the door. I was just about to go in when I heard a familiar voice call my name.

Peter!

I turned to see a dark haired man about thirty years old named Jude coming quickly down the hall toward me. I could see the light shining off of him in waves. I didn't need a mirror to know that his glow was at least as bright as mine. I had known Jude for about six months. He lived on the floor above me and we passed each other in the halls and on the street frequently. He'd always struck me as a good man and though I barely knew him, I considered him to be one of my few friends.

Jude, I said, trying not to react visibly to his glow, how are you?

I see you've learned a few things, he said quietly as he reached my door.

I knew immediately what he was talking about. I glanced around the hallway nervously and saw that we were alone. Even so, the bluntness of his statement surprised me and I played dumb.

What do you mean?

Come on, Peter, Jude said, Your glow is so bright I almost have to shield my eyes! Surely you can see mine! You met the old man last night.

Actually, the night before, I said, but I was at his home last night.

And he gave you the Gift of Light! Jude said. That can only mean one thing. You're to be general too!

You too? I asked. How many of us are there?

I don't know, Jude replied. John's never said. I'm supposed to meet with him tonight.

As am I, I yawned. I don't mean to be rude, and it's great to know that you're a follower of the True King, but...

You're exhausted, Jude finished for me. I understand. Get some rest, my friend. You'll need it. I'll see you tonight.

We shook hands and then he went down the hall towards the stairs. I went into my room and closed the large wood door. Without even kicking off my shoes, I fell onto my bed and was asleep within seconds.

By the clock on my wall it was four in the afternoon when I finally woke up feeling refreshed. I looked from the clock to the portrait of Morningstar which hung next to it. For the first time, it looked out of place. His dark eyes seemed to look right at me, accusing me of betraying him. Shuddering, I went over and took it down. I put it on the floor against the wall facing away from me.

I went to the washroom to relieve myself and clean up before heading out. The several men who were there all had various glows. I had to consciously keep myself from staring at them as I tried to measure their possible receptiveness.

Once I was clean, I got dressed and headed out. I would stop at the old tavern for a meal and to see if any potential soldiers were there. After that, I would go to John's house. No sooner had I gotten out of the building than I was stopped on the porch by the smiling, glowing Jude.

You look rested, he said.

I slept well, I told him. I was about to go have dinner. Well, breakfast, really. Would you like to join me?

I'd love to, he said. We headed towards the Morningstar Street Tavern together.

NINE: Lucy and Susannah

The previous day Morningstar Street Tavern had seemed dark for the first time in the ten years that I had been going there to eat, drink, and visit my old childhood friend Lucy. That night as I sat at a table in the corner with Jude awaiting the delivery of our meals, it seemed darker than ever. We didn't see many glows. That didn't surprise me in the least. I knew most of the men who frequented this tavern and I could count on one hand those who weren't violent, drunken, whoremongers. There were nearly fifty men and a few women in the place that night and just under a dozen had any kind of glow at all, and only three or four had more than a twinkle.

I know what you're probably thinking: if I was so close to the Truth, why was I coming to this bar in the first place? That's a good question, and it's one I've been asking myself ever since that night with Jude. I guess I went there because it's where most everyone I knew went. My father had been a regular as well. In fact, five years earlier he had been killed in a bar fight just twenty feet from where I was sitting. He'd come because his own father was a regular. The food was good, the drinks were strong, the barmaids beautiful, and I honestly knew no better.

And then there was Lucy. We had lived in the same building growing up. She was three doors down from me and we played together as children. We were about the same age, but I thought of her almost as a little sister. When the other children in the building would pick on her I would be quick to stand up and defend her.

As we both grew into teenagers, I ceased to think of her as a sister. Well, to put it more precisely, I stopped thinking of her as just a sister. Puberty hit, as it does for all those fortunate enough to live past eleven, and the world around us had taught us of love. Love meant sex in nine out of ten cases. and since we loved each other, Lucy and I loved each other. I still protected her, still fought for her, and still teased her like a brother would, but when it came to expressing my love, I used the only form of expressing the world had ever taught me.

We both grew up. I got my job as a taxi driver and moved into my little room and Lucy, really in need of employment and eager to get away from her home (where her father also loved her) was employed by the Morningstar Street Tavern as a waitress/prostitute. As a somewhat respectable establishment, albeit respect based on the evil standards of our dark kingdom, the women employed there were considered to be the best. Lucy was very fortunate to get a job there and she insisted that I come to visit her as often as I could.

So, for whatever reason- food, drink, family tradition, or my love for Lucy- I came frequently to the Morningstar Street Tavern.

Now I sat there with Jude, who had never set foot in the place before, considering these things as we discussed what I'd learned the night before. We were whispering.

Now don't get me wrong, Jude was saying, I'm not trying to sound better than you, but I know a lot more about the True King than you do.

When did you meet John? I asked him.

About six weeks ago, he answered. There have been Dawn-believers for as long as Morningstar has sat on his throne, but with the True King ready to retake the kingdom and Dawn coming soon, his followers have been on the move. John is just one of many in nearly every city in the kingdom, but he is doing the most important work right now. This is the capitol. This is where Morningstar has his throne. The main battle will be fought here, at Pergamum. And we, my friend, will be on the front lines.

John has told you all of this? I asked.

Jude nodded. As he will tell you, among other things. But even after six weeks, I have just barely scratched the surface.

Has he told you the King's name? I asked,

No, Jude said. In fact, I don't think he even knows it.

But how can that be? I asked. John knows so much!

As John himself is fond of saying, Jude said smiling, there are many things yet to be revealed. Maybe he does know the King's name. Who knows? All I know is that I know what I need to know. I'm still learning.

I had more questions, but I held my tongue because a waitress had arrived with our meal. I had gotten a large piece of mutton, a fresh loaf of bread, and a pint of ale to wash it down. Jude had ordered some roast beef with vegetables. As the food was placed before us we were more interested in the girl who had brought it. The waitress who had taken our order was busy and another one, a young pretty blond girl, had taken her place. It wasn't her beauty, which was exquisite, that captivated us, it was her glow. She was by far the brightest person that Jude and I had seen in the bar.

Smiling, she placed the plates in front of us and refilled our drinks. We couldn't help staring at her, but her plastered on smile never wavered. She probably mistook our rapt attention for lust. Most men stared at her that way and it was her job to satisfy them.

Enjoy your meal, gentlemen, she said. And if you need anything else, she winked at us, just ask for Susannah.

You don't have to do this, Jude told her. He said this quietly, using the same tone John had used with me in the alley.

It's my job, she said. I really don't mind. She paused, looked at the