The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (78 page)

“I’d sacrifice my soul to gain this world.”

“Good,” Jacob replied, grinning. “If the man you had been is holding you back from the man you are destined to become, then let me reshape you into something new. Let me mold you into something more than a fearless, all-powerful king—a man that is so much greater than mere man.”

Lukas felt a stirring within him—a rousing of courage as Jacob finished. Suddenly, all his doubts and fears seemed trivial. They were still there, but they no longer suffocated him. Lukas knew there would challenges ahead, trials that would push him well beyond his limits—but he now resolved to turn every test into his little victories.

“When do we begin?” Lukas asked.

“Soon,” Jacob said, standing up. “For now, I must go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Europe, among other places,” Jacob replied. “I imagine I will be back within a week. For now, bolster your borders and ready yourself for what comes next.”

“And what does come next?” Lukas asked.

Jacob paused, downing the last of his whisky. He set the glass down and smiled as his eyes bore into Lukas.

“The birth of a god.”

Sigmund Dietrich slowed as he neared the back of his beachfront home, returning from a mind-freeing jog along the sandy coastline. He paused to take a breather, thankful for the nanobots inside him that kept his body from catching up with the years behind him. Sigmund glanced toward the sea, forcing a smile upon his face as he watched the sun begin its descent. He knew he was safe where he stood, though he felt like a defeated shell of the man he had been. Still, Sigmund knew the powers that fought on his behalf, and he believed there would be a day soon when vengeance was his.

Sigmund took one more deep breath, tearing his eyes away from the sunset and entering his home. He slowly passed through the rustic living room before walking into his quaint kitchen. He paused as he opened the refrigerator and reached for a bottle of water, his eyes flickering to a man who lounged quietly at the kitchen table—in the shadows, nearly out of sight. Sigmund quickly restrained the anger that bubbled inside as best as he could. He drew a deep breath and shut the stainless steel door, taking a drink as he joined the man.

“My, my,” Sigmund said, placing the bottle on the table with enough force to send water fountaining out the top. He sat down, his eyes never looking away from the man across from him. To do so could mean death or worse. “I knew you were bold, but I never thought you to be so bold that you might show your face after what you’ve done.”

“And what exactly do you think it is that I’ve done?” Jacob Brekor replied, reclining with a smug smile that was nearly hidden by the angular shadows that crossed his face.

“You know damn well what you did,” Sigmund growled. “You fought for that weak sack of shit when I was so close to accomplishing the mission that was entrusted to us!”

Jacob paused, his white eyes meandering as they searched Sigmund. It took a lot to dishevel Sigmund, but he knew he was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown and he wondered what Jacob was really there to say.

“I am sorry you feel that way,” Jacob finally replied.

“And I’m sorry you were so captivated by your daughter’s squeeze that you’d swear allegiance to him.”

“I’ve only sworn allegiance to one,” Jacob replied coolly. “I can assure you that as of now, Lukas Chambers is still but a man. Nothing more.”

“Then why not help me kill him when you had the chance?” Sigmund replied. “Why fight for Lukas when we had nearly won this world?”

“I have not necessarily fought for him, just as I have not necessarily fought for you,” Jacob replied. “I have been…a moderator, you could say.”

“A moderator?” Sigmund asked incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about?”             

“I am an assessor, a spectator, and a judge charged to observe and report. I only helped Lukas survive one backstab so you two could face one another on the field of trial. Though I may have once favored you as the victor, it appears Lukas—without the cosmic knowledge you hold—has won over the heart of hearts.”

“As if our master has a heart,” Sigmund replied.

“Oh, he does, Sigmund,” Jacob replied. “And I would warn you to watch your tongue when we speak of him.”

“I’m sure,” Sigmund said, sipping his water before setting it aside. “So it is death then? I am to die as punishment for my letdowns?”

“No,” Jacob replied coolly as he glanced out the window at the sunset. “And you did not fail, despite what you may think. You were told to ready the world and find a praiseworthy vessel, which you have. The only caveat is that it is not you. I am sorry, Sigmund, but you were never promised what you sought.”

“I was promised immortality!” Sigmund roared, slapping the bottle of water off the table. “I was promised the White Shadow and Scorched Earth Codes! You know what we could have done with those securely in our grip? Gods, Jacob! That’s what we would have been. Why not simply lead me to them? Why leave me to battle an unwinnable war on two fronts?”

“Because you know we are not omnipresent,” Jacob replied. “Not yet. Besides, the weapons of tomorrow were promised to the one he chooses.”

“And what if the enemy finds them first?” Sigmund replied. “What good is the Prism Project if it is compromised by the existence of the White Shadow?”

Jacob leaned forward, the shadows traversing his face like clouds across a mountain range. “What good are you if you are compromised by doubt?”

“Have I not served him well?” Sigmund asked, tears and emotion of which he had thought himself incapable suddenly finding their way to his face. “Have I not been ruthless when they were weak and compassionate? Have I not wrought death when the enemy longed for life? Have my actions over the past sixty years not caused the enemy to stumble in every tribe and nation?”

“Has Lukas not achieved that as well?” Jacob asked.

Sigmund narrowed his eyes, frowning at Jacob. “So everything I’ve done, all for nothing?”

“I never said that,” Jacob replied. “And
he’s
never said that either. Though he may exist as a shadow now, it will not always be as such. You see, like the world, you are expecting a black monster from the abyss. Trust me when I say that you will instead see a compassionate and unwavering white knight.”

A white knight?
Sigmund thought, confused with Jacob’s claim. Sigmund had only known darkness since he began to serve, never once envisioning the authority that guided his ways to be compassionate or anything other than night.

“So if it is not death,” Sigmund began. “What am I to do?”

“You are to travel to the Wall,” Jacob replied. “You know what the ancient text claims. You know what is at stake. I fear we have been beat when we knew what was coming. You are to begin building the stronghold before they take root. We cannot let their voice be heard. It might be years before the awakening, but years you will have. We both know the world will only get worse for those who try to abide by the old. When the time comes, he will want a palace worthy of his vessel.”

“I will never bow to Lukas,” Sigmund spat. “I will not be his trained beast!”

“You will be what I say you will be or you will be worse than nothing.”

“Please,” Sigmund muttered. “Is there no way I can prove my devotion? Is there no way I can prove my worthiness?”

Jacob paused, closing his eyes tightly. The room seemed to darken as Jacob swayed, like the subtle closing of an eye. Sigmund looked around in wonder, fearful of what might follow should it play out that his mind was not playing tricks on him. Eventually, Jacob resumed his gaze and Sigmund flinched.

“Sigmund Dietrich, you are ruthless. You are unwavering, unrelenting, and valuable. The masses now stumble because of the war you began. But we demand so much more.
He
requires the heart of an unfailing legend.”

“And he may have my heart,” Sigmund said, lowering to his knees. “I would carve it out for him with my own hands.”

“But that’s just it,” Jacob said. He stepped forward, towering above. Sigmund’s jaw slowly descended in awe and terror. Though Jacob now stood in the light of the setting sun, the shadows remained upon him, shifting like the opposite of light on water—as though he bathed in darkness. “You know what is truly going on behind the veil and still you failed. You spent years shaping your heart into an unyielding lump of iron—unwilling to bend for anyone or anything.”

“And what is wrong with that?” Sigmund asked. “What is wrong with holding strong to the convictions he instilled upon us?”

“You have spent six decades molding your heart and soul into everything the enemy is not and yet failed to become the one thing both sides in this war demand.”

“Which is what?” Sigmund asked meekly.

“You have failed to be victorious,” Jacob replied, grinning as he lowered himself—now inches from Sigmund’s wide eyes. “Therefore, father has spoken a new decree. I am sorry, my old friend, but Lukas Chambers
must
be the antichrist.”

E
pilogue

The Birth of a Nation

And so it was, as darkness waited and the world slowly stumbled forward, a whisper of hope took flight upon the wind. From a battered town it grew, rising and sweeping across the burning plane of North America, unable to be contained within her shores. The whisper stretched beyond oceans, reaching out to touch the ears of mankind.

In Eastern Europe, a queen hidden from those who thought her dead watched Adam’s broadcast and felt courage for the first time in months. In an ancient mountain fortress—nestled at the base of the Himalayas—a reluctant warrior quietly shed tears as he listened to the ode of a besieged world. In Africa, an aging priest and a young woman paused their northward journey across the aftermath of a battlefield—listening to a nearby radio before thanking God for answering their prayers. In a smoldering metropolis that lay between the mountains and the sea, a young boy and girl—two reluctant leaders that had risked everything to protect hundreds of helpless children—held each other’s hands as a man’s voice passed through their radio and into their hearts. And in a basement that had been hidden away in a small New Mexico town, Mitch Dunham and Tim McKinley listened to the broadcast quietly, wondering if they had finally found the man worthy to bear their burden.

That is, they began to wonder if Adam Reinhart was the man worthy of the White Shadow and the Scorched Earth Codes.

Where Adam’s voice journeyed, allstopped what they were doing to soak in the simple poem
.
With that poem came a new declaration of independence—a pronouncement that gave hope to the people. Those who had heard and were able to make the journey followed the whisper to join their brethren in the United States. As they traveled, they too shared Adam’s words. Thousands became tens of thousands—a multitude of countrymen flocking to Fort Harding, a growing fortress that stood proudly beneath a mighty flag.

They united as one to join with those who shared a dream of freedom as the world witnessed the birth of a nation.

About the Author

Jordan Ervin had spent five years working for a prestigious corporation before branching off on his own at the age of 25 to pursue his dreams. He spent the next few years building his own business while writing his first novel part time. Today, he lives in Colorado with his wife, Rachel, and his four children. He works in information technology field while he continues to write. If he's not working, writing, or reading, he's usually chasing little kids around his home or enjoying the mountain view.

You can follow him and subscribe to his release newsletter at www.jordanervin.com or contact him through [email protected].