The Apocalypse Script
Read The Apocalypse Script Online
Authors: Samuel Fort
Tags: #revelation, #armageddon, #apocalyptic fiction, #bilderberg group, #lovecraft mythos, #feudal fantasy, #end age prophecies, #illuminati fiction, #conspiracy fiction, #shtf fiction
1
***
Book 1 of the Nisirtu
Series
By Samuel Fort
Second Edition
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2014 Samuel Fort
This book is available in print at most
online retailers.
Thank you for downloading this ebook. You
are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be
reproduced, copied and distributed for
non-commercial
purposes
, provided the book remains in its complete original
form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite
ebook retailer to discover other works by this author.
Thank you for your support.
All characters appearing in this work are
fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.
There are those whose teeth are
swords, whose fangs are knives, to devour the poor from off the
earth, and the needy from among mankind.
Proverbs 30:14
Prologue
- February 4th, First Year of the Second
Era
Part 1 - September 21st , Final Year of the First
Era
Chapter 6 - Arrival at
Steepleguard
Chapter 7 - The Tablets
Revealed
Chapter 12 - The Return of
Fiela
Chapter 14 - The Morning
Pudding
Chapter 17 - The Apocalypse
Script
Chapter 20 - The King’s
Madness
Chapter 21 - The Meeting of the
Four
Chapter 22 - Fiela’s
Intercession
Chapter 29 - The Devil in the
Details
Part 5 - September 25th - Dawn
Chapter 38 - Duke of the
Ordunas
Part 6 - September 25th - Dusk
Part 7 - September 26th and 27th
Prologue
- February 4th, First Year of the Second Era
“
Stay
where you are!
” The command came from a
prone man atop a detached semi-trailer buttressed by snow-covered
sandbags. The barrel of the man’s rifle extended just over the edge
and its scope glinted as the sentry aimed in on the newcomers. The
trailer completely blocked the road and on either side of it were
walls of stacked concertina wire sheathed in ice.
A minute passed, and when no
further commands came, the man below yelled back, “My name is
Vedeus.” Switching to the secret tongue, he added,
“
Peth-Allati
of
the Tenth Kingdom.” He motioned with his head toward the shivering,
robed figure sitting behind him on the horse. “With me is Persipia,
a noble daughter of the Eighth. She is ill and seeks
refuge.”
Vedeus waited for a response that
didn’t come. The man behind the rifle on top of the trailer didn’t
move. More minutes passed, during which the only sounds were the
howling of the frigid wind and the snorts of the ragged and weary
horse beneath him. Plumes of steam rose from the animal’s frosted
snout as it drooped its head in exhaustion. The long slog up the
mountain in knee-deep snow had taken two weeks and there had been
little to forage.
The man was perplexed as to why he
had not been ordered to identify himself, dismount, or lay down his
weapon. Perhaps speaking the secret language of
Agati
had been a mistake? But the
odd fellow in the city below had assured him that his kind guarded
the passes. If that was true, speaking the secret language should
expedite Vedeus’s safe passage. If his contact in the city was
wrong, however, and slaves guarded this pass, the use of any
language but English was likely to be a mortal error. Most of the
slaves couldn’t distinguish Agati from Russian and the only thing
they feared more than a foreigner was a foreigner with shotgun
across his lap.
He was jarred by the sound of a
squelching radio on the wall above him. It had been months since he
had heard such a sound. Almost no electronic devices worked since
the collapse. A muffled conversation between a guard he couldn’t
see and some distant master followed.
“
We shall not be
allowed in,” murmured the woman behind the Peth, wringing her
gloved hands against his stomach. “I am a traitor. If
the
Annasa
allows me inside, it will only be to torture me.”
“
I was assured by the one who
cared for you that you would be admitted and treated properly,
Miss.” Shaking the frost from his beard, he added, “At any rate,
our lot is cast. We would never make it back to the city and even
if we did, you know what waits for us there. The stench of a
hundred thousand corpses and the cries of the infected and
starving. Better to die here, in the peace of the
mountains.”
“
We could go elsewhere,” protested
the passenger weakly.
“
No. It is the
same everywhere. I have seen it with my own eyes. The scripts were
effective beyond measure. We have succeeded. The world is dead.” He
spat into the snow. “
All hail the
wisdom of the Nisirtu.
”
“
Surely some kingdoms have
survived.”
“
Perhaps. But where are
they?”
The girl could not answer, of
course, and the truth was that her new protector had his doubts
about the survival of any of the kingdoms. Three of the ten were
wiped out during the rebellion. The location of the other ruling
families was unknown to him. He had spent months traveling across
the plains in an effort to reach his own only to find the estate
abandoned and looted. The House had left no messages for its
subjects.
Less than a year ago he had been
told that the Nisirtu would be insulated from the collapse. He had
been told that there might be some short-term discomforts but that
these would be the labor pains required for a glorious rebirth of
the world. In time, he was promised, the Nisirtu would reassert
itself and again place its heels on the necks of the slaves that
had unknowingly challenged the invisible order’s
dominance.
Had that been a lie or a delusion?
Or had he been told the truth? Was he giving up too quickly? It had
only been six months since the collapse. He could have kept riding,
perhaps to the coast, in search of an answer.
Yet his dreams warned him to find
refuge soon. There was something horrific coming for him –
for
everyone.
Something more horrible than Cage’s disease, or radiation, or
hunger, because the thing that was coming was
sentient
. It had a mind, and that
scared him. He imagined he could feel the thing’s breath on his
neck when he slept, though his dreams assured him that it was still
far away.
A man in winter camouflage
appeared to the right of the trailer and began removing a section
of concertina wire that had been attached to wooden boards to form
a makeshift gate. When it was withdrawn another man appeared, this
one riding a white horse.
Persipia, seeing the man, gasped.
“
A lord of the Peth!” she
exclaimed.
“
Yes,” replied
Vedeus stoically, trying to conceal the emotion in his own voice.
The appearance of the figure now approaching them was proof that
not only had he finally found his own kind, but that these people
had a hierarchy. Rules.
Order.
He hadn’t realized how much
he needed order in his life until he began roaming the fields of
anarchy months ago.
The figure on the stallion that
moved slowly toward them was bearded, as were almost all men now,
and was dressed in the black combat armor of the Peth-Allati. A red
cloak churned in the wind behind him. Only Nisirtu military
officers of highest station were allowed cloaks but more indicative
of the man’s status was the brilliant ceremonial breastplate he
wore atop his real body armor. Silver and adorned with intricate
cuneiform calligraphy, it shimmered beneath the dull winter
sun.
“
Peth Vedeus,” boomed the man as
he approached with his right hand raised in greeting. “I
am-”
Persipia startled both men by
throwing herself into the snow and beginning to crawl forward.
“Lord!” she cried, “Have mercy and take me to the king! I am
promised to him!”
Vedeus and the other man quickly
jumped from their horses. The Peth lord reached the woman first and
lifted her into his arms effortlessly. She weighed almost
nothing.
“
You will meet him soon,” he
assured her.
Grasping his collar, she pleaded
in a hoarse voice, “Tell him I am here. Tell him to protect
me.”
