Gods From the Machine (2 page)

“
Your hands!” Matt gasped. He tapped the signal button on his tracking device. “We need to get you a medic, fast!”

In less than an hour
, a Garrison jet arrived. With no room to land, medics dropped a rope ladder with an attached stretcher. Matt helped Nick onto a stretcher and they reeled both of them to safety. All he could think about the whole ride back to base was the fact that he had managed to get hurt by nothing. Not a single run-in with a demon. Nothing. Alone, he managed to burn himself badly enough to warrant an ambulance ride. What a joke. No wonder Peter had so little faith in him. As he lay staring out into the night sky through the tiny pair of windows in the back, he could only imagine what the others would think when he returned. He could already see the snide look on Paul Evans’ face as he was hauled into the infirmary for a measly hand wound.

Once he was treated and banda
ged up, he was given a summons note by the nurse. Peter had arranged for a talk and it was urgent. What he wanted to discuss was a mystery, but it was convenient timing because there was much Nick needed to get off his chest.

Nick walked through the long corridor and down
the spiral staircase towards Peter’s office. Surprisingly the stinging pain in his hands had faded, though it still hurt to curl it into a fist. Two guards holding spears stood like statues on both sides of the doors, staring blankly in front of them. Nick paused to allow them to scan him and ask for the purpose of his visit, before granting him entrance.

H
e found Supreme Commander Peter sitting behind his giant mahogany desk with the Glenhaven seal etched square in the center. Thick, hardcover books stacked from the floor up decorated the walls around them. Two ladders on both sides to give access to them all. Nick glanced at the golden cane resting on the edge of the table and couldn’t help but see the irony.

Despite his advanced age, Peter Masters
sparred regularly with the other knights as if he was still in his youth. Nick knew this firsthand. As an orphan, he had the privilege of being personally trained by the Supreme Commander of their organization. It was an honor given only to those who had shown the most potential or were extremely skilled. Unfortunately at the same time, this meant Peter was a difficult taskmaster, as his methods were harsher than others and his expectations were far more demanding. Even now, with plenty of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, a receding silver hairline, as well as a grey beard, the man showed no signs of slowing down.

“
You wished to see me, Supreme Commander?” Nick knelt before him. The old man’s displeasure was reflected on the white marble floor. This wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

“
Rise, boy,” Peter said, gruffly.

Nick obeyed, and stood facing him. The old man was dressed in his gold cloak.
Nearby in a glass display, was a knight uniform decorated with various medals to commemorate his impressive track record. Their eyes did not meet as Peter was too busy looking through stacks of paperwork sprawled across his desk. “I want you to think for a moment about the best punishment you see fit for yourself.”

“
Punishment?” Nick took a few moments to register what he said. “We did exactly what you wanted—we got the sword! The mission was a flawless success!”

Peter moved his eyes from the desk to Nick
’s, his gaze piercing, “Flawless? Look at your hands and tell me that again. You were deliberately told not to handle the sword. Those orders were given to Matthew Cunningham, and believe me he will be punished as well.”

“
Like it even matters,” Nick muttered.

“
What was that?”

“
Punishing me is no worse than what I’ve already been doing around here. I run back and forth with petty assignments that contribute nothing. Frankly, I’m tired of it. In fact, it seems like I’m just sitting around playing soldier behind these walls. What’s the point of keeping me here if you have no plans to send me into real combat? I can’t even use a sword. I’m the only one here who hasn’t been trained to use any weapon. I only know hand-to-hand combat. It’s clear by now that I’ll never become a knight, so tell me, what other menial tasks do you have left to humiliate me with?” Nick said.

“
Watch yourself, boy,” Peter growled.

“
You’re right, there is no need for an explanation because all I get are excuses anyway. Tell me why I should even bother fighting for this cause anymore because in my eyes, I’m just a waste of space here.”

Peter gave him an unnerving stare for the longest time before finally letting out a sigh. He tented hi
s fingers. “Do you know what is special about tomorrow night, boy?”

Nick was taken aback by such an odd attempt to redirect the flow of conversation
. “The New Year’s Cotillion.”

“
Do you know what is significant about the day after?” Peter asked.

Nick shrugged
. “A drunken morning of regret? Vomit stains on the fine linen? Overall embarassment? Anything goes during the Cotillion.”

Peter laughed heartily
. “I see you’re not as vain as you look. But I’ve never known anyone to forget their own birthday! When the clock strikes twelve tomorrow night you turn eighteen and take the final step from adolescence into adulthood!”

So it was, but his birthday was of little importance. Maybe for others it signified a milestone in their lives, but for him it was just another number. Not once in all his life spent living at the Garrison
, had they been known to celebrate birthdays. He had always assumed it was to keep personal relationships from interfering with work.

“
Eighteen doesn’t mean the same thing to me as it does to the others.” Nick folded his arms. “What can I do this year that I couldn’t do before? It’s not like I’ve got a life outside these walls. I’m not a civilian. And since I’m not getting a chance at the trials, I’m not going to be a knight either. I’m sitting exactly where I was six years ago.”

“
That’s not true. In these past six years you’ve grown much wiser, you just don’t realize it yet. Metamorphosis is the difference between a worm and a butterfly as well as the difference between finding success and constant failure. I cannot explain the situation to you right now, but give it a little time and you’ll notice the changes in yourself. I promise you’ll understand soon enough. In light of the fact that tomorrow night is the New Year’s Cotillion, you and Cunningham will have your punishments put off indefinitely. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

“
Thank you, Supreme Commander.” Nick bowed.

“
Now go on.” Peter gave a flick of his wrist.

Nick left feeling very confused
. He found Matt outside pacing around the two guard sentries, looking quite flustered. He glanced up at the sound of the door shutting, and ran up to Nick.

“
What happened? I can’t believe we screwed this one up! What did he do to you? What’s he going to do to me?” Matt looked as if he was about pass out.

“
Nothing.” Nick was surprised to hear the answer come from his own mouth.

“
Nothing?” Matt repeated.

“
Nothing.”

Matt let out a breath of relief
. “Really? I talked to Joni earlier and she said we were definitely being punished. She heard it from Gabriel and everything. But if that isn’t the case then I can still take her to the Cotillion.”

Joni Bliss was one of Matt
’s oldest friends, and had the distinction of also being his girlfriend. She was a nice girl, but was much too timid for her own good. She found the prospect of killing anything—even a demon too mentally taxing. So instead of joining the frontlines, she decided her services would be better spent in a field that best suited her kind heart and became a cleric.

“
Well I hope you have fun, because I’m not going,” Nick said.

The New Year
’s Cotillion was an extravagant, formal ball thrown by the Garrison at the end of each year to commemorate the services of soldiers and knights. It began in the evening and would go on through the next day. This was a symbol and a reminder to everyone to begin their lives with joy, and to carry on this merriment until the next year. But for most kids of this generation, it was the night to let loose of all other obligations and party until the wee hours of the morning.

“
Seriously?” Matt asked with eyes wide in disbelief. “Peter let us off in time for the biggest bash of the year and you’re staying in?”

“
Seems that way. I don’t even have a date so there’s really no point.”

“
You got to stop being the stick-in-the-mud. Can’t you find the blessing in all of this?” Matt put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We are going to party hard tomorrow tonight, bud. And not just because of Cotillion. Think about it, it’s your birthday and a New Year’s extravaganza all wrapped in one!”

Nick forced his best smile. He hated formal dances or parties with groups of over ten people. Not because he was an antisocial person, but
because every party always seemed to come down to a physical altercation between him and a couple of unruly knights of the Garrison. Thanks to years of hand-to-hand combat experience, he’d always come out on top, but the gratification wasn’t worth the punishment for it afterwards.

They
parted ways, with Matt taking this chance to rest up before the big ball tomorrow evening. Before that, he advised Nick to relax after their successful mission, but of course Nick wouldn’t, or couldn’t. Instead, he decided to go to the library to brush up on some of the Glenhaven Garrison history. Why did the Supreme Commander choose him particularly for this mission, and why was he so specific about the little details? He was so busy ranting earlier that he had forgotten to ask.

Nick
pulled several books about prominent knights in history off the shelves and sat at a table with a single desk lamp. He needed to find out exactly why Peter was so interested in Sir Marcus and his sword. Several tomes had nothing about the orator or his blade. There was no mention of the sword until he came across one of the older textbooks and discovered something interesting.

There was only a single page dedicated to
the deceased swordsman: a hand-drawn portrait of Sir Marcus standing very regally on a boulder overlooking the sea with his sword slung at his hip. A small inscription below the picture read:

“
My life has forever been intertwined in servitude, but I have no regrets for a cause that is just. With the knowledge that the coming dawn will be my last, I vow to fight until my dying breath. Bravery, Justice, Wisdom, and Peace are the core that lay in the hearts of the men who stand with me. My brothers and I can never surrender no matter the obstacle, for the day man loses the will to fight, that day will mark the end of life itself.”

-Sir Marcus Kinsley

The Second Coming

Nick sank into his chair. The Second Coming was the most recent demon war. It occurred to him at that point that something wasn’t right. For years the sword had remained buried within the grave of this fallen knight, yet retrieving now was suddenly of great importance. Why now? And why was it so imperative that he not touch it? Peter was a great mentor and one he respected, but at the same time, he was a man with many secrets. What would he have to hide?

The
sound of soft footsteps took Nick’s attention from the page. Joni walked casually into the room, but she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice him. She was a slender girl of small stature, and an oval face that was pleasant to look upon. She had dark brown eyes and jet black hair cut in a jaw-level bob. She wore the standard female knight uniform, which was much more form-fitting than the male counterpart. The jacket was also cut shorter to the waist. The boots ran much longer up the leg.

S
he finally noticed him sitting there, gasped, and pressed her hand to her chest, dropping the plastic bags filled with streamers and the other decorations to the floor.

“
You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing in the library at this hour?”

“
I was having trouble sleeping. Thought I could read a book and maybe the boredom would put me out. What are you doing here so late?” Nick said.

Joni scooped up the bags.
“I was helping the decorating committee with some last minute banners for Cotillion and I needed to find the exact design for the Glenhaven Seal as a reference.”

“
Isn’t it just a shield with a feather across it? Not that it matters because I don’t think anyone going to Cotillion will pay attention to some banners.”

Joni laughed.
“It’s actually a kite shield with an angel wing on both sides. And for your information I’m an artist. I can’t just slap on anything and pretend it’s fine because I’ll know the difference.” She pointed at the stack of books next to him. “Mind if I take a look?”

“
Help yourself.” Nick closed the book and slid it across the table to her. Joni took a seat across from him and began skimming through the pages.