Chpt. 20 - Don't Shoot the Messenger by Daniel Grant Newton (SEASON FINALE)

For the previous chapters of Daniel Grant Newton's online book Don't Shoot the Messenger, click below:

Chapter 1      Chapter 2      Chapter 3      Chapter 4      Chapter 5      Chapter 6      Chapter 7      Chapter 8      Chapter 9      Chapter 10     Chapter 11      Chapter 12      Chapter 13      Chapter 14     Chapter 15     Chapter 16     Chapter 17     Chapter 18     Chapter 19

Irene and Jude took their hands off the ancient chest and peered into the darkness.

“This is different,” whispered Jude, cocking his gun.  “When is this?”

“Well, I guess we are with the box just before Alexander bought it,” Irene replied.  “That was our intention.”

The lights overhead blinked on, temporarily blinding them. 

When their eyes adjusted to the brightness, the two time travellers were face to face with a room full of soldiers in black jumpsuits, with the Nordic Mjollnir (Thor’s Hammer) symbol emblazoned on the front of their uniforms.

The soldiers held futuristic-looking rifles at Irene and Jude that hummed and contained glowing cartridges. 

Someone approached the two visitors.

It was Alexander, dressed in a long black gown and gloves.  He wore a silver pendant of the same symbol as that on the soldier’s jumpsuits.

“Just on time,” he said, greeting Jude and Irene.  “Beauty and the beast are here as I said they would.”  He rubbed his hands together.  “Welcome to the year 2043.  I thought I’d bring you both back here to show you what you helped create.”

“What’s going on Alexander?” said Irene, after exchanging a glance with Jude.

“You all played your parts perfectly,” he scoffed.  “Naturally, having to read the probability hologram by myself meant I was never quite sure which outcome was most probable, but this one was a good one.  I did think at one stage having a scientist help me read it could be useful, but I couldn’t risk them getting all ethical on me, now could I?  Just as no one, including Spider, could be witness to my entire master plan.”  He beamed.  “Doesn’t matter, anyway.  I had a plan for every possibility.”

“Jesus didn’t die,” Jude muttered.  “So your plan failed.”

“You are part right, my friend,” Alexander nodded.  “Jesus didn’t die.  But the Roman Empire did, and so did Christianity.  Well, there are a few pockets of those who follow the teachings of Christ, but I am gradually quietening those rabble makers.  Killing them for the good of the whole.  I am still considering on going back to kill the pest you guys failed to kill, but as it is, Christians are a minority that hide in the alleys like cockroaches.”

“I don’t understand,” said Irene, shaking her head.  “You destroyed the Roman Empire and wiped the Christian Church from history?”

“Correct.  It was all part of my master plan, as aforementioned.  The team was delivered a number of bombs through the chest the day you both split from the rest of the group.  One was meant to blow Irene and the temple up, but the rest were nuclear weapons given to a nasty resistance group.  I believe you met their leader, young lady.

“Anyway, this group was shown how to detonate the bombs in the letter Spider gave their leader, and they were also given the artillery to get them into the heart of Rome, supposedly in exchange for your capture.  Without Rome, Christianity as you both knew it could not spread.  The note also requested they kill the two of you and any of the team you didn't manage to kill.  I do hate loose ends.  But in the end the only one they killed was Kofi, because you do what you do so well, Jude.”

Jude and Irene stood in silence.

“Your majesty,” said one of the soldiers, bowing his head to Alexander, “shall we lock these time outlaws away?”

Alexander nodded and the soldiers stamped their feet signalling that they accepted the order.  Irene and Jude were grabbed from behind by a number of soldiers.

“Your majesty?” Jude exclaimed, squirming his muscular body out of the hold of the four soldiers around him.  “What does he mean by that?”

Alexander moved right up into Jude’s face.  “Do you really think I got to where I got by being nice, Mr. Stone?  By helping people?  The three missions I sent you on were all designed to give me the opportunity to inherit my kingdom.  And get back what fate had stolen from me – the Mjollnir Kingdom.” 

He turned to the men holding Irene and Jude.  “Lock them up.  Tomorrow morning we will give them a public execution to honour the Great Odin.  I want the message to be loud and clear: No man shall pass through time without my command.”

To be continued...

Season 2 coming in 2013...

If you have not already, Shambhala hero, subscribe so you do not miss it, and so you can enjoy the many upcoming stories planned.

And do not forget to tune in on Monday for the first part of The Last King of Shambhala.

Holy News Stories, Hero! Message straight from the Shambhala Cave to your Shambhalan Transmitter

NOTE: "Vegitables" are digital vegetables for those playing at home.

Beep beep beep...

Shambhala Hero, listen up.  The season final of Don't Shoot the Messenger will be posted in two days time.

Holy Ending, Daniel.  I hear you say.  Which is not only a clever reference to Burt Ward's version of Robin, but also perhaps a little bit sacrilegious considering the content of the story.

But do not fear.  A new story is here...

I have decided to release The Last King of Shambhala, chapter by chapter, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday (starting next week).  In addition to regular programming, stories and insightful ramblings.

Yes, The Last King of Shambhala is the story that has had top reviewers raving, been rated as one of the best independent books of the year, and had been given approval by this guy.

So join us next week, same bat time, same bat channel.

Oh, and The Last King of Shambhala is still available for pocket money on Amazon, if you want to support your favourite writer's hopes and dreams, or you want to find out what happens ASAP.

M62MP76AK6Z6

Don't Shoot the Messenger Official Blog Trailer

Hey Shambhala Hero!

As promised, here is the trailer (with Anabel) for my blog readers.  I have held off from posting this, but now, in celebration of Don't Shoot the Messenger Season One coming to an end next week, I thought it would be the perfect time to share it with you.

And don't be mistaken, this one I am posting here just for YOU - my blog readers - no one else.  So if anyone goes to the Don't Shoot the Messenger website - it won't be there.

Enjoy!

Daniel

Book Trailer and Promo for Don't Shoot the Messenger

Hey again!

Just a quick note from me to you.  I've put up a promo page for Don't Shoot the Messenger with a book trailer and I wanted to share it with you.  You can marvel at it by clicking the big link below:

Don't Shoot the Messenger Promo Page

Also, I will post another book trailer with the lovely singing and guitar of (the artist currently known as) Anabel soon.  (You might remember her from my animation video).

That trailer, however, I will keep especially for you - my blog readers - and won't post it up on the promo page. So keep your eyes peeled. Figuratively peeled. Naturally.

Anyway, I hope you are enjoying the online book. I have the second half of the book ready to go up, and will continue posting very, very, very soon. Possibly even very, very, very, very soon if you are good.

Santa is watching.  (He's at your window... nothing creepy.)

:Daniel

P.S. The promo page address is: www.Dont-Shoot-The-Messenger-The-Book.blogspot.com

Chpt. 6 - Don't Shoot the Messenger

Click here for Chapter 1

Click here for Chapter 2 

Click here for Chapter 3

Click here for Chapter 4

Click here for Chapter 5

Irene sat cross-legged on her bed and watched the late afternoon sun cuddle the ancient town through the fluttering cloth Jude hung above the window.

He was asleep in the bed across the room.  Her instructions had been to stay inside until the meeting with the shopkeeper.

She glanced back and forth between the window, the door, and her sleeping guardian.

Keeping her eyes firmly on Jude, she slipped out of bed and gingerly made her way out the door, closing it ever so carefully.

The narrow dusty streets outside looked much different at dusk than they did in the morning, the swell of merchants, shoppers and animals had all gone home for the day, and the few that wandered the streets looked penniless or shady, or both.

As she turned the corner she saw two men with daggers leaning up against a wall and conversing softly.

They watched her every step, and one grinned at her with yellowing teeth.

“Where are you going?” called the one with yellowing teeth as she passed by.  He motioned a bony hand for her to come back.

She quickened her pace, and skipped a little, thinking of turning that skip into a sprint.

At the other end of the alley came three more men.  They stalked towards her.

“I heard you were looking for Yēšûă,” called the man behind her again.  He and the man he was conversing with were now following her up the alleyway.  “A silly woman shouldn't talk so loudly in the market about such things.”

The five men closed in on her.

“What do you know about Yēšûă?” another man with reddened eyes and protruding ears snarled.

This man pulled her arm with a meaty hand and ripped off her head scarf that covered all but her piercing eyes.  “What a pretty little woman we have here,” he chuckled.

Irene threw a fist at the man that clocked him on the side of the nose.  Blood trickled down his big lips.

“Do you need a lesson in respect?” he growled, wiping the blood with the back of his sleeve.

A dark figure appeared at the end of the alleyway.

The man with the yellowing teeth called out to the figure.  “If you know what's best for you, you will keep walking.”

The group of men sniggered, but the figure did not keep walking.  The figure instead moved towards them.

The man with the bleeding nose put a dagger to Irene's throat and motioned for the other four men to see what the figure wanted.

When they reached him they began taunting him but he did not respond.  Two of the men went to grab him, however he maneuvered out of their grasping hands.  He grappled one man and put him in an arm bar, while breaking the other assailant's leg with a kick.

He then used his forearm to knock out the man in his lock, and let him collapse to the mud.

The other two men moved forward to hit the figure, but before they could touch him, he pushed one of them back into the side of a building, and round-house kicked the other guy in the head.

The attacker who was kicked in the head staggered to the ground.

The other man leaned against the building put his hands up to try to block an attack from the shadowy figure, but was collected by a series of hook punches that dropped him beside the others.

Irene squinted at the muscular man who had single-handedly reduced the number of bandits to one.  The clouds in the night sky covered the moon, and in the dark alleyway, it was hard to make out any features of the shadowy figure.

As the figure moved closer Irene recognised the man.  “Jude,” she gasped.

“Do not move any closer,” growled the man with the dagger, “or I will slit this lady's throat.”

Irene translated the sentiments of the armed man to Jude.

The soldier gave the bandit a half smile.  “Doctor Hadar, tell him that if he doesn't let you go, I will kill him very slowly.  If he lets you go, I may let him run away like a little girl.”

She translated the message to the man who snorted and moved backwards, keeping the doctor at knife point.

Jude swaggered forward and shrugged.  “Option two, I guess.”

With lightening quick pace, Jude leaped forward with a spinning kick and knocked the knife out of the bandit’s hand (missing Irene by centimetres).

The attacker dropped Irene and began sprinting down the alleyway.

Jude picked up the man's knife and threw it at him.  It hit him in the calf and he crashed to a heap.

Jude knelt beside Irene.  “Are you alright, doctor?” he asked.

“I am okay,” she whimpered.  “Thank you.  Sorry for leaving.  I won't do it again.”

“I don't blame you.  I would have left too if I were you.  I however should have stayed awake and made sure you didn’t go wandering.  So we’re both at fault.”

Jude took her shaky hand and they strolled towards the man who had held her hostage. 

The bandit writhed on the ground holding his leg.

When they got close, the man pulled out the knife from his leg and waved it at Jude from the ground.  Irene decided to stay a few paces away.

The soldier kicked the man's waving arm to the ground, and stamped on it to pin it down.  Then, before the man could move his other arm he stamped on that arm too.  Jude knelt over the bandit.

“Doctor Hadar, can you ask this man why he attacked you?” the soldier asked.  “And tell him that he'd be wise to give me the right answer.”

Irene translated this to the man and he began chattering and sobbing.

“He says the Romans pay him to hunt down revolutionary groups and uncover their hiding places.  He said one of his men overheard us talking at the marketplace.  Apparently there are others looking for our scalps too.”  She let her eyes drift onto Jude's.  “Don't kill him.”

“You don’t get to make those decisions, Doctor Hadar.”

“Please.  He is the result of his upbringing.”

“We all are.”

“Yeah, but…”  She paused.  “You can’t just kill people in the past without giving it a second thought.  You kill him, and he might end up being a descendant of mine, for example, and I will be wiped from history.”

Jude grimaced.  After a few moments pause he said, “Why do I get the feeling I'll regret listening to you?”  With that, he planted a fist through the man's right temple, and the bandit's eyes rolled back in his head.

Click here for Chapter 7... 

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Chpt. 1 - Don't Shoot the Messenger

England. 1100 A.D.

Jude Stone wiped the black camouflage painted down his square jaw and forehead, before crawling to the edge of the forest thicket. He flashed a smirk.

Before him, peeking through the early morning mist at the top of the grassy incline, was a castle surrounded by high stone walls.

The static from his two-way radio interrupted his admiration.

“Go ahead, Spider, over,” said Jude, his accent Australian.

“We've secured the North-West and North-East towers. And the detonations have been placed. Over,” replied the voice on the other end of the radio, a husky Lancashire voice.

“Roger. Coming now. Over and out.”

Jude Stone slinked through the fog towards the North West tower of the castle, cradling his M40 sniper rifle. His black boots sunk through the sludge, softening the sound of his approach.

As he came to the castle wall a climbing wire was lowered. He clipped it to his belt and scaled to the top.

There Jude was met by a slim man in a black jumpsuit, identical to the one he wore, and a gas mask. The soldier took the mask off.

“Team B are ready and waiting,” the man said, tracing his finger over an electronic tablet, “and team A have now positioned themselves around the perimeter.” The man looked up from the tablet. “There are only a few life signs in the room with the king at this point in time. Should we move in?”

Jude signaled to the soldier to get low as they heard the clinking footsteps of someone approaching.

Coming out of the doorway of a turret mere metres away was a knight dressed in a green tunic and chain mail, with a broadsword by his side.

The man searched the curling fog.

Jude crept towards the knight on his haunches, taking advantage of the blanketing fog that masked his approach.

The knight put a hand to the hilt of his sword. His eyes flicked back and forth, and he muttered a string of words Jude couldn't understand, perhaps Latin or Old English. Not French.

Jude threw a hand across the knight’s mouth and nose and snapped the swordman’s head around, leaving no time to struggle or call out.

“Green 'A', green 'B', over and out,” ordered Jude into his radio transmitter as he dragged the heavily-armoured man into a dark corner.

Stone's eyes scanned the site once more, positioning himself at the edge of the wall overlooking the castle.

Jude squinted through the sight of the rifle, poised to fire through a particular window in the castle’s keep.

Soldiers dressed in black jumpsuits and black ski-masks abseiled down the castle to another window ledge, before lobbing a stun grenade into the room. They turned away as a violent flash erupted from the room, before then bursting in with their sub machine guns aimed in front.

Through the sight of his rifle Jude saw a red-faced man in purple robes clambering down the stairs blindly and holding a bleeding wound in the abdomen. Without hesitation Jude pulled the trigger, and with a muffled bang, the man's head flew backwards. The figure tumbled down the stairs leaving only a spatter of blood on the wall behind.

Spider's voice came over the radio attached to Jude's belt, “Good shot, mate. King William II is down. Sweet brutal justice for a brutal blood thirsty king. Over.”

“Time to clean up, Spider,” chuckled Jude as he raised the radio to his crooked grin, “Let's grab the bodies and disappear. No witnesses. No more casualties. Over.”

“Affirmative. The diversion explosion has been set for the South towers with a sixty-second counter. Over,” came Spider once more.

“All teams meet back at the designated spot. We'll work on the details then. Over and out,” ordered Jude.

Click here for Chapter 2 of Don't Shoot the Messenger by Daniel Grant Newton