Free Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 by Chris Stewart Page B

had been taken and everyone was fair game.
    Through the years, Balaam had seen it all until he reached the point where there was no pain or disappointment, no depravity or torture, no betrayal, hate or hurt he had not mastered. He had been there and cheered when Cain had lifted the stone. He had witnessed Abel’s blood flow and learned the power of greed. Soon after, he and the other fallen angels realized the astonishing power of lust and its incredible potential to destroy. It was a short step from lust to far greater sins. Soon, there was no aberration or depravity they had not introduced to the world.
    Over time, Lucifer’s followers had developed a real love for the blood and horror of war. How many battles had they started, then watched the outcome with glee! Armies were their playthings, the cries of the dying sweet music to their ears. In his mind, Balaam could smell the smoke from the fires and the stench of dead flesh. He could hear the cries of broken mothers as their children had been tortured and taken as slaves.
    In one particularly brilliant display, Balaam had convinced a young mother to sacrifice her own children to a pagan god, a moment they all remembered with particular pride. And they had called it religion! Even Lucifer had laughed. On another night, Balaam had laughed while Judas put a rope around his neck, promising the mortal he’d keep on fighting to the end of the world.
    Looking down on the Iranian village from the hills up above, Balaam thought of all of the millennia that he had wandered the Earth, considering all of the changes he had witnessed. He had seen great cities rise and great nations fall. He had seen deserts grow out of marshlands and the seas flood their coast. But now Earth was growing old. He shook his head in anger and snarled a hot stench of breath. So much time had passed!
    Short! Time was short! And still so much work they had to do!
    Yet, as he stared down on the Iranian village, he felt the pull of something large. Something strong and great and powerful. Something that brought him great fear. It was here. Something dangerous lived in the village.
    Someone who could hurt him.
    He had to discover who it was!

NINE
    The ground above the Agha Jari Deh Valley rose sharply to the west. There, on a rocky spot looking over the haphazard village, an ancient guard tower rose like an arm and fist from the ground. The tower was made of stone cut from the mountain and stood almost sixty feet above the sloping terrain. The base of the tower was some forty feet wide, the granite walls six feet thick, with a large and high-ceilinged room inside. A single metal door allowed access to the ground floor room and a narrow set of wooden stairs along the back wall wound up to the top of the tower. In ancient days, the tower was manned constantly to provide warning to the villagers when an attack was imminent. In the early years, or the lean years, when the population of the village was small, most of the village’s women and children could be crammed inside the base of the tower. There they would huddle while they listened to the sounds of the battle outside.
    The tower, known as el Umma, or the community, had through the years fallen into deep disrepair. The huge metal door was nearly rusted off its hinges, and the steps were so dry and rotten they sagged mightily under even a little weight. But the tower was one of Rassa’s favorite places to think, and through the years he had retreated there many times to ponder and pray.
    The day before Azadeh’s eighteenth birthday, he got up early and hiked the steep trail that led to el Umma . It was spring, but the hay was coming near to full, and his day would be busy for there was much work to do.
    Rassa entered the tower just as daylight was beginning to break. Inside, el Umma smelled of mold and dust and ancient, rotting wood. Four-inch slits in the rock walls provided light to illuminate dimly his way as he climbed the stairs and every ten or