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In the Mission Square flags flew from the new leafed maples as Preston and the Pastor
stood on the podium awaiting the arrival of the Messenger of the Army. Below them the chaos was almost complete. Though the Captain and the Sheriff's men exhorted the people to stand in their companies, they paid them no attention and milled about, many of them distraught. The 'Men Apart' however stood peacefully at the back which had the effect of keeping the rest hemmed in. Then the sound of a Great Bird was heard. It quickly appeared from the low cloud and settled as people ran in all directions to get out of its way. This Bird was unlike any the Pastors had ever come in. It was larger, dull green colored and had a red dragons head painted on the front. Without ceremony men appeared from the body of the Bird. One was the Winged Messenger of old, eight feet tall in a silvered suit and a helmet with a reflective visor and golden wings that covered his head and neck completely. With him were nine others, equally as tall, in uniforms of black and gold, and also with helmets that covered their heads completely but which lacked the wings. Finally, a man who looked almost like a Pastor stepped from the bird. He wore a plain green uniform and beret with stripes indicating that he was an officer of the Army. While the Winged Messenger stood impassively by the craft and the other giants moved to the periphery of the crowd and began to marshal them into a smaller space, the officer mounted the podium to greet the Pastor. 'Behold the Winged Messenger!' said the Pastor, using the loudspeakers. 'Obey him in all things.' There was complete silence. The Messengers' men stalked slowly about. They carried wands held by a loop about their wrists and if any were not silent, or stood in their way or moved when they thought they should not then they touched them with these wands, which caused them to scream and forever after have a tiny scar. Though on the whole their presence alone was quite enough to intimidate the people. 'Our Father who is in Heaven, bless these soldiers of your Army whose every living moment will be spent striving in the service of your Great State. Our Father who is in Heaven, love only those who love the things You love the best.' As the Pastor spoke a dark cloud moved in across the forest, dimming the already restricted light. The visibility was reduced to naught. Trees swayed, torrential rain lashed down across the multitude, drowning the Pastor's words and turning damp mud into liquid. 'God speed you on...' There were rivers running down the Pastor's neck as his hat sagged on his shoulders. The Captain waved his arm, a likely signal for a trumpet or a horn but in the torrent the gesture stayed unseen. He moved down from the podium and took the first steps forward and those behind him, channeled by the giant soldiers, dimly saw him move and moved as well. Thus they went, a sopping sodden mess, each following the other out of the Square past the tall pines of the Mission and the Officers bedraggled salute. All were wishing they could run away, back to their former homes and make a fresher, drier start. But they could not. And so the Captain, like the Pied Piper himself lead them off down the path to the perimeter of the town to where the track to Harrisville began. |
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