The Prophet: Book Three: Judgement

By Don Newton

The Draggon King, Darkonus, died at the hands of his daughter - the cold steel of her dagger taking his life, and the void-wraith trapped within sucking his soul away. Now Kat has ascended to the Draggon throne and become their Queen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don Newton
• Release date: Aug 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005281984

Don Newton

Don Newton is a writer and armchair philosopher, author of the science fantasy trilogy “The Prophet”, and short stories too numerous to count. Don has been in love with science fiction and fantasy his entire life. The first alternate world he created was the result of a sixth-grade essay assignment, and he’s been hooked ever since. That world has grown and transformed into an entire multi-verse of possibilities to explore. Don’s not just a writer though, he has hobbies too: like making up funnier lyrics to popular songs. He sings them to himself when no one’s around—especially in the car. Don has a degree in Nursing and he’s a certified Paramedic. Six years in the Army sent him to places as diverse as Hawaii and Germany, where he was awarded the Army Achievement Medal for conduct above and beyond the call of duty. Having lived in nine different states and two foreign countries, he now calls the desert southwest home.

Book preview

The Prophet

Book Three

Judgement

Copyright 2019 Don Newton

This book follows these:

The Prophet: Prelude - The Trial of Sa’riya

The Prophet: Book One - False Gods

The Prophet: Book Two - Draggons

Find them at Donnewton.net

Chapter One

Jupiter spun lazily, hurtling through the void of space, with no conscience about the coming death of trillions hidden by the bulk of its sheer size. Being three hundred times larger than Earth, someone should have thought to look behind it. When they finally did (thanks to a question from an eighth-grade science class in Pillsbury, North Dakota), using the ancient satellite, Tyris IV (because it was the only one with the view they needed), they discovered the source of Jupiter’s recent changes.

The planet was brighter than it should be.

In the preceding six-months, Jupiter became twenty-three-percent brighter and developed a halo. Astronomers were baffled. But twelve middle-school kids reminded them that light gets refracted when passed through ice crystals around a massive body, and Jupiter has long been suspected of having a water-layer in its upper atmosphere. Maybe there was something brighter than Jupiter, behind Jupiter?

Those kids were right.

Tyris IV: the satellite designed to warn of incoming nuclear attacks centuries earlier, before the inhabitants of Earth realized how insignificant their disputes were, and set aside their differences, was in a unique position (orbitally speaking) to have a glimpse of space past Jupiter. It was just a sliver more, a slice of sky they hadn’t thought to look at, and the view was chilling.

The image they received was the head of a rogue comet, its tail streaming out behind brightening the sky, unseen or suspected, on a collision course with the third planet from the sun.

John Harlan shoved the door open. Luckily, there was no one on the other side. The door hit the stubby rubber-coated-metal stop embedded in the floor, and the glass rattled in the frame—it got everyone’s attention. He stalked through the metal detector and glanced at the security guards when it went off—the look on his face said, ‘not right now.’

They both nodded and waved him through. He didn’t need the shiny NASA badge clipped to his uniform pocket: they all knew who he was.

Kennedy Space Center should be full of tourists touching moon-rocks and fawning over space-shuttle displays, but not today. The streets had been similarly deserted on the drive here. Since 6:42 Eastern Standard Time, the only thing on people's minds was Karnasov’s Comet.

Professor Karnasov was undoubtedly basking in the glow of validation, whatever that was worth. He’d predicted this event, and his peers (the ones who claimed he was mad for thinking a planet-ending collision with a celestial body could sneak up on them) were appropriately subdued—by the fact that he was right—never mind that it was a prediction of the apocalypse.

Vacations ended abruptly, and everyone returned home to await the end of the world. Radio stations reported a worldwide panic, with people crowding grocery stores, fighting over the last case of bottled water, as if it might prolong their lives, somehow.

At the end of the main hall, he turned left, pushing the double-doors to the conference room open.

"It’s about time you got here, Commander." Derrik Holden snapped.

"It’s been twenty-three minutes since you called me, Doctor. This is the fastest I’ve ever made it. The streets are deserted. It’s a little eerie. John threw his hat on the table and pulled out a chair. Calm down and concentrate on the problem. Is Houston online?"

Derrik punched a button on the remote, and the main video screen popped up, showing a depressed-looking General Whitaker shaking his head and yelling at someone off-camera.

"The other file. The red one! You know it’s going to be red, why would you pick the non-red file? They’re always red."

An anonymous hand passed him the disputed crimson folder after a few seconds, and he began flipping through it.

Uh, General… John said.

Whitaker’s eyes snapped up. Oh, I didn’t see the screen come on… He tried to fake a smile, but it was superficial.

Understandable, sir, I’m sure you have a million things going on.

"No, just one, John. It’s a huge frozen chunk of rock, headed right toward us! Spit flew from the corners of his mouth, and the vein on his head that everyone talked about bulged. The damn thing missed Jupiter, but they said it would, so that’s no surprise. Where are you on the ARK project? I know this is short notice, but we have three-and-a-half months to get those ships ready…"

We’ll be ready. How are they going to handle the lottery?

I haven’t talked to the President about it, yet, but he decided on something different. I’m sure it’s weighing on his mind; it is on mine.

John nodded. Yes, sir, I can only imagine. Six-hundred seats… how do you fill them?

There’s a plan. I don’t necessarily agree with it, because it doesn’t include me...

"Please tell me it’s not the richest-and-smartest plan, from six months ago… I thought we killed that?"

"Yes, they dropped the richest part; I guess you really can’t take it with you.’ He chuckled to himself, and the grin seemed genuine. "Now, it’s just the smartest plan."

That’s better, I suppose… What’s the IQ cutoff, Gary?

"One-seventy, which leaves me out, and they’re spreading it over multiple disciplines, so it’s balanced. These are the best and brightest in their fields, John: the top point-three percent."

"I get to fly a bunch of brains to a different galaxy… sounds like a blast."

"John, if you weren’t one of three qualified pilots, you wouldn’t be going either, and we could sit on the beach outside my cabana and drink a beer as the world explodes."

Alisha snapped awake, sitting up in the dark, wondering where she was. It was another of the dreams from her childhood: one with the soldiers. She hadn’t thought about them in years. But, Sa’riya said the other one, the one with Zaril, was a vision, not a dream.

Maybe this one is too…

She concentrated, focusing her thoughts.

Jerain, are you there?

Jerain waved her hand over the candles lined up across the windowsill. The wicks sparkled and caught fire, casting a flickering glow around the bedroom.

Alisha looked around, remembering where she was.

That’s right. We’re at Dalancy castle.

Well, Jerain said, a bit impatiently, here I am, aren’t you going to say hello?

Alisha shook her head. I’m sorry. I’m not completely awake yet. Hello, Jerain…

Jerain walked to the bed. She sat next to her upon the soft down mattress Alisha slept on for so many years. This was her room, in her adoptive parent's castle. She’d grown up here, and the memories flooded her mind.

The Dalancy’s brought her home from the orphanage when she was fifteen. She was too old: even the social workers said she’d never be adopted, but the Dalancy’s had taken her, anyway, and they’d loved her as their own—and they’d given her two sisters: Becca and Carril—the best sisters in the world, although it didn’t start that way… but that’s another story.

Still here… Jerain raised her eyebrows.

Alisha laughed. I’m sorry, Jerain, I was just reminiscing.

About your sisters, and all of your adventures here... Jerain smiled and nodded.

I want to take them with me… Becca, Carril, and Dalo. You said I could take anyone I wanted.

"Yes, I did. I also said you should expand your possibilities. Take more people, with different skills; you never know what you might run into…"

No, the four of us can handle it.

If that’s what you want. Jerain looked at her, pride swelling her face. I think you’ll be fine.

Alisha squeezed her hands. "You said something about three clues…"

And you just got the first one. Jerain smiled.

"You mean, that dream?

"Dream, vision, call it what you want. You first had that dream when you were young, do you remember now?"

Yes, there were several of them, but they were strange, like watching an old science-fiction holo-vid.

"They were visions of the past, Alisha. Visions of your history, your ancestors. Few people remember how humans came to be on Erador. But you know, you simply have to remember. Your power, the change that you went through when you absorbed the multiverse made you immortal, but it also broke a block in your mind created by The Forgetting—you’re no longer affected by it. What you experienced was genetic memory."

"What memory?" Alisha looked confused.

A memory of where you’re from, and not just you—everyone.

"I get the feeling, you know. Why not just tell me and end the torture?"

Jerain laughed. "If I was omniscient, yes, I might know. But I already told you, this multiverse wasn’t created by one super-powerful being. There are a lot of us, all doing our share, in different parts of the galaxy. But you can remember where your people came from. The memory is there."

Alisha swung her legs off the bed and walked to the wide doors leading to the balcony. Shelves of dusty leather-bound books lined the walls, staring down upon the scene in quiet dismay, or superb disdain, depending on their titles.

She pushed the doors open. The mountain wind hit her in the face, strengthening her resolve. It woke her up, erasing all tinges of fear and uncertainty. "We’re all from Erador."

Jerain’s swell of pride bloomed, and she was suddenly standing next to Alisha on the balcony. When I said that was your first clue, I meant it.

"Seriously, Jerain, why can’t you just tell me where the Triscale is?"

Because it wouldn’t respect your authority.

You mean, I have to show it who’s boss? Alisha asked.

In a manner of speaking.

"But you control it, don’t you?"

Yes, and that brings me to a point I forgot to mention.

What?

Jerain turned and walked away. She leaned on the balcony wall, staring at the forest and the mountains beyond, the wind blowing her hair back. You need my mark, to control the token, but it has to be your choice.

Your mark… Alisha stared at her, "What does that mean?

It means you can control the Triscale. It’s impossible without it.

"But I used the other Tokens when I was young, and I never needed a mark," Alisha said.

"You used them. You didn’t control them, and that’s what you have to do with the Triscale. I usually require the bearer to devote a significant portion of their life to my service, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

Why would you do that?

Because our goals happen to be aligned.

You want the Prophet dead? Alisha asked, her eyebrows rising.

"I want order restored. If that requires the end of someone, then that’s the natural way of things. I think very long-term, Alisha, and you can’t grasp what I know, so be happy with what I give you."

"No, that’s not good enough. I put up with this from my grandmother and great-grandmother, but I’m not related to you, so tell me the truth. What do you want out of this?"

Jerain spun around, crossing her arms. She stared at Alisha with those haunting chestnut eyes for a long time: long enough to make her uncomfortable. I want you to replace me.

***

Jed and Jacko delivered them to Dalancy Castle two nights past, by virtue of having the largest ship. Alisha had begged for rest, and the other humans agreed: it had been a long month. The immortal members of the party didn’t need sleep—they went off to do what immortals do when no one is watching, except for Kat, she stayed with Delia.

Cyrus and Glory Dalancy were charming hosts. They made them all feel like family, even the Draggon Queen.

Katreena was on her best behavior, and not a faux-pas was uttered.

In total, they slept a combined fifty-six hours, in fragments and fits, rolling and tumbling, fighting with fevered dreams and memories of battle. It was sleep, of a sort.

Alisha and Jerain found Nu’reen in the dining nook by the kitchen, the morning light streaming through the windows bounced off the gray streaks in her hair; she had a pot of mint tea steeping on the table. She waved her hand over the crystal surface and two more delicate cups shimmered into view. She filled all three.

Where is everyone? Alisha asked.

Nu’reen set her cup down, waving her free hand at her lips. "Be careful… that’s hot."

Thanks for the warning, Alisha said, her eyes thinning. Where is everyone, again?

"Don’t take that tone with me, young lady…" Nu’reen glared at her, pupils flaring.

Then stop acting strange, Nu’reen, and tell me where everyone is!

"Both of you quit before someone gets their feelings hurt: especially me…" Jerain made some motion with her hand that Alisha couldn’t see, and suddenly she felt light and carefree like nothing bothered her. She looked at Nu’reen; she had a stupid grin on her face too.

Alisha shook her head and turned to Jerain. Whatever that was, stop it now.

Jerain smiled. I didn’t think that would hold you for long, but that was quick.

Nu’reen snapped out of the charm seconds later and slapped Jerain on the forearm. "Stop doing that! That’s how you separate fighting Na’Geena children."

Fine! Then both of you stop arguing and treating each other like enemies.

They exchanged apologies and promised not to do it again.

"What has your problem been, though, great-grandmother?" Alisha stared at her.

She’s anticipating the power she’ll receive when you kill her sister, Jerain said, sipping her tea.

Nu’reen’s eyes burned again. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Because it’s true. She’s been a thorn in your side forever, I should know, I’ve settled more than one of your disputes… if it weren’t for the K’Pa law forbidding sororicide, you’d have killed her yourself, long ago, you told me as much, many years back. I would have applauded your efforts. And I still can’t say I’m opposed."

Nu’reen cocked her head and grabbed her cup, an unspoken thought, twisting her face as she sipped the steaming liquid. She didn’t argue the point.

Alisha looked at Nu’reen and asked, You’ll ascend when I kill her?

Not unless she takes a mate of a different species, Jerain answered. "But she will become much more powerful, regardless. The ascension process for K’Pa is two steps: either step will increase your power; both steps will make you very nearly a god."

"I always thought you would choose me when you got tired. Nu’reen lowered her cup and stared at Jerain, but pointed her finger at Alisha. But now, I find you’re focused on another."

"You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on conversations you’re not a part of…" Jerain’s brow clenched.

"It’s the curse of having exceptional sight, Nu’reen said. I hear everything, especially things close to me."

"Do you mean, Jerain asking me to replace her? Alisha asked. You heard that?"

Yes. It was difficult not to; you were so emotional. Nu’reen squeezed her hand.

They were all quiet, searching each other’s faces.

I haven’t decided if I should. Alisha continued, turning to Jerain. Why is it you want to quit again?

"Not quit: retire, Jerain said, sipping her tea. I’m tired. It’s time for someone else to deal with things for a while."

Deal with things… what things? Alisha asked.

You know… the dimensions, the multiverse—this corner of it, anyway—watching my boys, making sure they don’t fight.

Sounds like babysitting to me… Alisha grinned.

Jerain smiled. "Babysitting three transcendent beings isn’t as easy as it seems, especially when they have minds of their own—they argue a lot… You can continue to live your life, like normal, but you’d have some additional responsibilities."

Like what? Alisha asked.

Stopping plagues, wars,