Free Afterworld (The Orion Rezner Chronicles Book 1) by Michael James Ploof Page A

a fever, and asked if I was alright.
    “What? I can’t be serious?”
    “Not usually,” he said.
    Father Killroy gathered us all in a small circle and bowed his head in prayer. Being a member of the Empyrean Brotherhood, his blessings had power—even more so, if your faith was akin to his.
    And though I believed in the father’s conviction, I didn’t share his beliefs. Neither did Mushiro, and as far as I know, Dude was agnostic. But I felt the blessing wash over me, nonetheless.
    A few—Anderson, Lopez, and Macklebee—apparently did believe, for they shuddered and took in rushed breaths when the blessing took effect. I believe this is behind his insistence that I come to Mass. He wants his blessings to give me strength. And, of course, he wants me to feel the glory of his god. He is a shepherd. His instincts are to save.
    People like Father Killroy, those of holy faith, had been exhibiting strange powers since the Culling. Answers seemed to come to their prayers, blessings had an obvious effect on practitioners, and they could perform divine feats that left the biggest skeptics scratching their heads. No one knows why the Empyreans have gained so much power. There are witnesses who believe these holy men have always had at least some degree of divine force at their disposal—exorcisms, for example—but for some reason, maybe similar to the wizards’, kept it a secret until after the Culling.
    However, there are many theories. The one that I align with most is the idea that their faith has simply solidified in the face of Armageddon. For a holy man, as well as everyone else, surviving the end times can either destroy your faith or make it as solid as steel.
    The Empyrean Brotherhood are wizards of a sort, I think, in their own right. The difference being, their power is fueled by extreme faith. They believe so fully that their blessings will work—they do. I could be wrong, of course. It seems completely reasonable that God might be behind their “divine power”. But that doesn’t explain why powerful Empyreans come from all religions. Strangely enough, the priests cannot answer that question either.
    Kronos and Macklebee took the recon vehicle, a small tank with a light cannon, antennas, and mini satellite dishes galore. Aside from our main mission, we would also be gathering any important data for the Militia and Council of Light. Juggernaut and Meathead jumped into a beefed-up dune buggy with fat wheels and a beast of a machine gun set behind the driver. Mushi, Killroy, Melody, Dr. Doc, Dude, and I loaded into a transport truck which would be driven by Lopez.
    As we pulled out of the hangar and made for the western gate, my excitement grew—as did my apprehension. There were no windows in the transport, and the lone red light inside lent a dreamlike quality to the confines of the vehicle. My nerves tensed as I began to imagine being trapped inside the hunk of metal while it burned. I didn’t like not being able to see what was going on outside, and facing the back just made matters worse.
    I must have worn my emotions on my sleeve because Melody kept looking at me from under her hood. “Try to relax, Joker. Your nervous mojo is polluting the environment, and thus, my spell crafting.”
    Witches. They always seemed to know how you were feeling. And they had a bad habit of taking it upon themselves to alter those emotions to their liking. Every wizard knew they couldn’t really be trusted. Back before the truce between the two, witches and wizards had battled for centuries. And witches proved to be a powerful foe. It wasn’t until we nearly wiped each other out that the truce was finally formed. Their magic may not be as physically devastating as wizards, but their strength lies rather in subtlety and preparation. While wizards control inanimate objects more easily, witches are masters of the living. Plants, animals…men, we all become putty in the hands of a powerful witch. They are the givers of life