Overcomer - The Battle by Judy Colella (best management books of all time txt) 📖

Enemy of Moloch; otherwise, why – and how – could he be here? Forgetting himself in the overwhelming, soul-draining weariness of the moment, he looked back at the vile creature and asked aloud the same question he’d asked himself. As soon as he did, the Sword became unexpectedly too heavy to hold upright, forcing him to let its tip drop slowly toward the ground.

Moloch’s eyes lit with a burst of flame and it stopped gazing at its nails. Leaning closer, it hissed, “You silly, silly little boy. Don’t you see? Haven’t you figured it out yet? NONE OF THIS IS REAL!!!” It shook its head and leaned back against a brick wall that had appeared behind it out of nowhere. It tossed the cane upward, the object vanishing as Moloch continued, “Your foster-mother left you to die, remember?” It smirked, putting its head back against the wall and gazing upward. “Poor little Cian – everyone deserts him. First his brothers go away, their essence stolen by a fever (it was the closest I could get to having them sacrificed to me in the fire); then Mommy and daddy abandon him in a strange land. And then his new Mommy and daddy get themselves murdered, leaving him alone once more and at the mercy of their killer, the evil Mrs. Pettijohn; and finally, she deserts him, hoping he’ll starve to death. Oh, me.” It had said all of this in a mocking voice brimming with false pity. It pushed itself away from the wall and took a step closer to the boy, its expression becoming one of total disgust.

Cian stared dully at Moloch as he kept searching for the right words and wondering what had suddenly gone so wrong – a few minutes ago he had been winning, and now he could barely stand upright, much less wield the sword he was leaning on to keep himself from falling. He detected another sound, too, underscoring the voice of Moloch and his own inner words, but couldn’t explain it or recognize its source. Words of some kind. . .

“You poor, stupid moron!” said the demon, sounding incredulous. “Look, idiot, you were too weak from hunger even to get up and drink some water from that disgusting toilet, so you got severely dehydrated, and now you’re very close to death. You’ve begun to hallucinate! There is no Celeste, no Katie, no Keeper – where ever did your feeble brain come up with that one? And there’s no – oh, I’m sorry. Is this too ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ for you? Or no, wait, that’s before your time. Now there’s a good one! Uh, maybe. . . ‘The Sixth Sense’? Ooh!” It waggled its thick fingers in front of the boy’s eyes. “I see dead people! No, wait, not people – I see you!”

Cian’s breathing grew ragged, and he felt his knees begin to buckle. “How – how could I have made all this up?” he managed in a half-whisper, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“Aw, look, kid, don’t take it so hard. What you need right now is a nice, long nap, yes? And how about a cool glass of fresh spring water?” Moloch raised its hand, palm upward, and a glass appeared in it filled with clear, sparkling liquid.

He who has true belief concerning me, inasmuch as the Writ of power had told, out from his own heart will run fresh rivers of the waters of life.

He felt a tiny bit better for having remembered that, but before he could push himself back from the Sword in order to try lifting it, Moloch lashed out with a fist and hit him hard in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“Don’t tell me you still think you can win this!” exclaimed the fire-eyed creature through a harsh laugh. “You’re no different from anyone else of your kind – and you’re almost dead! That weakness you feel is the life slipping away from your pathetic body.”

Cian rolled onto his stomach, and from the position he was in, it wasn’t clear whether or not he still held the Sword.

Moloch kicked him viciously in the ribs. “DIE, YOU DIM-WITTED, BRAIN-DEAD PIECE OF WASTE! YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME! I AM MOLOCH, THE FIRE GOD WHO CONVINCED THOUSANDS OF FOOLISH PARENTS TO OFFER THEIR CHILDREN TO ME THROUGH THE FLAMES OF SACRIFICE! SO WHO ARE YOU TO TRY AND STAND AGAINST ME? DIE!”

Cian groaned, tried to get up, but collapsed to the ground and lay still.

 

*******

 

“Celeste, do you see that? Oh, no, please, Cian get up!” Katie was on her feet, frantic. “And don’t drop the Sword!”

“This can’t be happening,” Celeste muttered, horrified. “I – Katie! What can we do? I’ve played everything I know, we’ve been reciting the Scroll like crazy, and it’s only getting worse!”

Katie bit the fisted knuckles of one hand, drawing blood. What could they do? What could they possibly do? Cian was being destroyed before their eyes and – “Celeste!” she screamed. “The – the final Song! The string! The silver string! Now, Celeste, please!”

Her friend nodded; as bad as things had looked before, they looked pretty much impossible now, and she could see no other choice. Taking a deep breath, she began the notes of the final Song of Light, her voice lifting to be heard above the music. She sang it with every remaining ounce of energy she had, and when she got to the very last note, carefully curling her right index finger around the center string, she stared at the spot on Moloch’s forehead that was dead center between its horrible eyes. Drawing the string back like the string of a bow, she paused a second, then released it, released the sound like an arrow straight at the being’s head.

A shock wave slammed into Moloch, throwing him back from where he hovered over Cian as he prepared to strike the final, fiery death-stroke, simultaneously pushing all the smaller demons out of the meadow completely. Behind the girls, the tree shuddered and its leaves fell around them, making a curtain that protected them from the tidal wave of sound.

The wave swept harmlessly over Cian, whose mind had still actively been seeking the right words. As it passed, it imparted energy to his worn out body. He found he could suddenly think more clearly, and realized that his right hand still clung tightly to the Sword.

I haven’t let go! he realized, encouraged. But the words . . .and then, there!

Slowly, obviously suffering from bone-draining fatigue, he got his feet under him and made himself stand up, raising the Sword once more. He swayed slightly but was able to look Moloch right in the eye.

“How do I know?” he asked, his voice breaking a little. “I know because I have read and memorized the whole Scroll, and I believe it!”

Words came flooding back to his mind, and once again he wielded the Sword, slashing and stabbing at the totally shocked and staggered demon; then the final words flooded his thoughts, words that he now believed with all his heart, and with a fierce light of triumph in his eyes, he used them for the final sword-stroke: You belong to and with the Supreme Magistrate, darling ones, and have thus prevailed, because of greater position and seniority is that one who is within you, than the one who is in and against this world! And pulling what remained of his strength from every corner of his being, Cian raised the Sword over his head, then swung it down forcefully as he executed a final, mighty slash which caused a very surprised-looking Moloch to shatter like a black light whose darkly gleaming fragments had lost all memory of cohesion.

The boy stood very still for a moment, staring at the pieces of what had been his enemy glittering sullenly in the twilight of the meadow. A slight wind arose a moment later, sweeping the pieces from the grass until not one remained. Cian sheathed the sword and turned toward the hill. He walked slowly over the meadow until he reached Celeste, who had hung the Harp carefully on a low branch of the golden tree as the silver leaves swirled back to their place on its branches.

She walked down low rise to meet him, seeing the near-total drain of energy in his eyes before he even reached her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his words barely audible. “We need to leave here.”

Katie rushed over and threw one of his arms over her shoulder as he started to fall, and Celeste did the same with the other.

“Where’s the exit?” Katie sobbed, looking around through the eerie stillness.

A sudden flash of light, and the Keeper stood before them. “This way,” he said, helping the girls support Cian as they headed slowly toward the middle of the deserted meadow. Once there, he had them turn left, and within a few minutes, they were standing on the other side of the rock wall, back in Fingal’s Cave, listening to echoes and whispers that now sounded almost mundane.

“By the way,” said Katie, needing to distract herself from the fear for Cian’s life that constricting her heart, “what did those words mean that you used to open the rock when we first got here?”

“It was Gaelic for ‘there is no strength without unity.’”

They got Cian into the boat, Celeste sitting next to him to help him stay upright. When they emerged into the Sound, the stars were starting to fade with the advent of morning. Croghan steered the boat to Iona’s beach, and the three of them half-carried Cian along the pathway leading to the small hill with its ancient cairn. If anyone saw them, the stares went unnoticed; at least tourists hadn’t yet begun arriving on the Ferry.

By the time they reached the top of the hill, Cian could no longer walk or even stand, and his eyes refused to stay open. They got him through the portal as consciousness slipped away altogether, and laid him gently on the grey pathway in the Hub.

“What do we do now?” asked Celeste, fighting tears. “Is he going to be okay?

Croghan shook his head, deeply worried. “He won, but it took a lot more out of him than I ever thought it would.” He stared off down the pathway, thinking hard. Then he knelt down beside the boy and felt along the side of his throat for a pulse. It was there, but alarmingly faint. Croghan stood, looking desperate. “I was told this could happen…there’s only one individual I know of who can help him right now, but you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“I don’t like what’s happened to Cian,” said Celeste, slightly angry. “So you know what? Do whatever you have to do to make him whole again.”

“Good. Stay here.” He walked off toward the Hub, leaving them for what felt like forever. And maybe it was, because he didn’t return.

Amergin did. “I’m to take you two back to your own time,” he told Celeste without preamble. “Leave Cian – I’ll be back for him. He’ll be safe for now – no evil being would dare try to touch him after what he did to their General.”

“What’s going on?” asked Katie, not liking the look in Amergin’s eyes.

“H-he’s taking us back to our time, but not Cian.”

“The Keeper said to ask you if you had your…cell phone?” He shrugged.

Celeste nodded. “I guess Amergin doesn’t know how to drive,” she told Katie. “We’ll have to call my parents to pick us up from the Seaport.”

“Whatever.” She was extremely unhappy about these developments, but lacked the strength to do more than acknowledge it.

“What will happen to him?” asked Celeste, staring down at Cian who, for all intents and purposes looked dead.

“Croghan will bring him to my time, where he will instruct the healers to help him.” He smiled. “He has friends there, and I think his angel friends are allowing him a brief visit for all he’s done to help you and Cian defeat Moloch. Once I’ve got you two home, I’ll be returning