The Antiquarians Part 6: A Remnants' Last Stand

A Christian Fantasy Novella

In The Antiquarians: The Song of the Covenant, Part 6: A Remnants’ Last Stand, the People of the Covenant stand on the brink of annihilation. Can Tof rise above his pain to lead the People of the Covenant? Or will the remnant’s last stand be their final act?

Or start back at the beginning with part 1:

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Tof strained against the unyielding grip of the Neoterian soldiers, his muscles aching as the chaos of the village swirled around him. Shouts and angry cries echoed through the air, a cacophony of fear and defiance. The sight of the Subjugator and the Enlightened One, standing smugly to the side, only fueled the fire of his rage.

Kinnor stepped onto the stage with the aid of his cane, one of the elders helping him up. “Everyone, listen!” he called, voice calm but commanding. “The Neoterians have given us until daylight to surrender or face their army, but we won’t get anywhere in this disarray. We need order.”

The shouting gradually subsided. Whether it was respect for Kinnor or fear of the Neoterians, Tof wasn’t sure. His breath came in sharp, angry bursts.

“Thank you,” Kinnor said with a nod. “As with every village-wide discussion, we will go family by family. Each representative will speak. Interruptions will cost your family its right to speak. Then, the five elders will vote.”

Kinnor gestured toward a woman in the front. “Chalil of the Azer family, you may begin.”

Chalil, thin and worn, stepped forward. Her voice shook as she spoke. “The Neoterians slaughtered all of my children.” Her hollow gaze scanned the crowd. “I can’t bear to see anyone else die. Our only hope is surrender.”

Tof growled under his breath, rage simmering. The Subjugator smirked, enjoying the impact his ultimatum had made.

Kinnor’s voice softened. “Our hearts are with you, Chalil. Thank you for your words.” He scanned the crowd and called on the next. “Timbrel of the family of Hinnom, you may speak.”

Timbrel, a hulking man with bulging muscles, marched forward. “We must fight!” His voice echoed across the courtyard. “The Neoterians are weak. I once fought off six—no, seven—of them with nothing but my bare hands!”

Kinnor interrupted with a sigh. “Timbrel, we’ve all heard your story. Keep it brief.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the part where I—” Timbrel’s voice rose, but Kinnor waved him off.

“Thank you. We’ve heard enough.” Kinnor rolled his eyes. “Since there is no one left of the Bezemon tribe, we will now hear from Tselatsel of the family of Johannan.”

A man stepped forward, his shoulders hunched. “We’ve been running and hiding for generations, clinging to hope that the Ancient One would provide. But he hasn’t. He has forgotten us, so why should we cling to foolish ways. We have to accept the reality that if we don’t embrace progress, we will become nothing but dust.”

Kinnor looked like he wanted to rebut the man’s argument. But he was bound by his own rules, each elder would chance to speak at the end.

Tof’s mind raced as each family took its turn. Most were too exhausted, too afraid to fight. The will of the People of the Covenant had been worn down by years of hiding. How could they not see the truth? How could they be so willing to surrender everything to the Neoterians?

“Lastly, we will hear from Selah the last of her tribe,” Kinnor said, his voice quieter now. He motioned for her to step forward.

Selah’s face was calm but determined as she stood at the center. “People of the Covenant,” she began, her voice steady. “I’ve heard your fear. Some of you wish to fight, and others seek to surrender. But there is another way. I have found the memory water.”

Gasps echoed through the crowd.

“I drank deeply and learned the truth. The drought is a sign. We’ve turned away from the Ancient One. Instead of being the water that refreshes the desert, we’ve become as dry and lifeless as the land around us. But if we return to Him, He will provide.”

Timbrel barked a laugh. “And what does that have to do with fighting the Neoterians?”

Selah met his eyes without flinching. “We need to trust in the covenant. We are not just Antiquarians—we are the People of the Covenant, and the Ancient One has not abandoned us.”

Before anyone could respond, the Subjugator took a step forward, his black cloak dragging across the sand. “Ah, yes. More of this ‘Ancient One,’” he mocked. “This child offers nothing but false hope. There is no Ancient One.”

“I’ve seen the truth,” Selah said, her voice strong. “I’ve seen His faithfulness.”

The Subjugator smiled coldly. “And so have I.”

He lowered his hood, revealing his bald, scarred head. The crowd gasped.

“I was once Teqowa of the Bezemon tribe, just like you,” he said, addressing the crowd. “I participated in the Antiquarian indoctrination, foolishly believing in the myth of the Ancient One. Then one day I wandered outside the original village and came upon a culture unlike any I’d ever experienced. Instead of relying on wyvern beasts, they had built their own superior versions. Instead of relying on the strength of some ancient covenant, they had created powerful suits that gave the user strength and endurance. While clinging to our antiquated ways, progress had passed us by.”

The crowd was silent, their eyes glazing as they listened with rapt attention to the Subjugator, spell-bound by his story.

Tof’s hands clenched into fists as the Subjugator spoke, his words sliding through the air like poison as he bent wills to his whims.

The vile man was once one of the People of the Covenant. Now his strange power over minds made sense, it was his gifting. Tof remembered how easily the man had twisted his mind, turned his pain and confusion into blind obedience.

What was meant to be used for strengthening faith in the Ancient One was now being used to sow doubt.

Tof felt the anger boil within him, sharper and hotter than ever. This was the man who had stolen his childhood, who had tried to strip him of everything, and he was doing it all over again.

“That’s when I met a brilliant young woman, the Enlightened One. The very one who created the devices I’d marveled at. She taught me the modern ways. Together, we realized that so much suffering was caused by peoples’ clinging to their ancient deities and refusal to be enlightened. And so we rose to power, teaching the world the truth.”

“You mean controlling and manipulating the world,” Tof shouted, desperate to break the spell he had over the people. Even Selah and Kinnor seemed enchanted by his words. “Just like you did to—”

One of the soldiers placed his hand over Tof’s mouth, using his enhanced strength to clench Tof’s jaw shut. He tried to yell but couldn’t open his mouth.

Ignoring Tof, the Subjugator continued his speech. “The People of the Covenant, my former people, are the only culture remaining that refuses to embrace progress. But now I have come to teach you the truth. Once you learn the new ways, you will finally be happy. No longer will you suffer or toil.”

One of the elders stepped forward. “What must we do?” He asked.

“Nebel, what are you doing,” Kinnor said weakly.

Nebel didn’t look at Kinnor, instead staring into the Subjugator’s eyes as if hypnotized.

“I saw what the world had to offer. Progress. Power. Freedom from the chains of ancient beliefs. I broke free from the shackles of the covenant.” He raised his arm to reveal the scarred, mutilated flesh where his mark had been. ‘It was painful, yes, but it was the price of true freedom. I stand before you as proof—proof that you can cut away the chains of your past and embrace a future where you’re not bound by ancient myths. You can be free, as I am.”

The Subjugator held up a curved knife. “This is more than just a simple blade, it holds the power to break the shackles holding you. All you have to do is carve off the branded flesh. Reject the covenant. Cut away the mark, as I did.”

He stepped closer. “When I held this knife for the first time, I was like you—bound by tradition, shackled by an ancient mark that meant nothing in the new world. But now, this blade is the only symbol I need. It is progress. It is freedom.”

The people were transfixed. Even Selah seemed shaken, though her eyes flicked toward Tof.

Tof thrashed in the grip of the Neoterian soldiers, but their enhanced strength held him fast. “Selah! Don’t listen to him!” he shouted, his voice muffled by the cloth wrapped around his mouth.

But his words had the desired effect. Selah blinked and snapped out of the Subjugator’s hold. She looked at Tof. Her eyes were clear, but she looked scared.

Tof tried to communicate strength to her. Selah had been the one to bring him out of the fog. If anyone could break the hold of the Subjugator’s enchantment, it was her.

“No,” she said, her voice regaining its strength. “We will not reject the covenant.”

The Subjugator smiled darkly and took a step closer to her. “And why should you remain faithful to a god who has done nothing for you?”

Selah’s eyes flicked to the crowd, her voice trembling at first but growing stronger. “The Ancient One has not abandoned us. He brought us out of slavery, gave us His covenant, and gifted us with the wyverns. He’s always been faithful.”

“Ahh yes, the wyverns. And where are these mighty beasts now?” the Subjugator mocked. “Gone. Like your god.”

A sudden, powerful gust of wind swept through the village, stirring the dust and whipping through the silent crowd. Heads snapped upward, eyes widening as a vast shadow spread across the ground, blotting out the sky.

Shofar descended, his wings outstretched, scales gleaming like molten gold, and with a mighty roar, he landed near the stage. The earth trembled beneath his weight as everyone took in the wondrous sight of his ancient glory.

The crowd gasped, and the hold of the Subjugator’s words shattered. Eyes widened in disbelief, and hope flared in their hearts.

Shofar turned to the Enlightened One and let out a mighty roar.

She stumbled backward and she glared at the Subjugator. “I thought your soldiers and wyv-droids had wiped out the last of these beasts.”

The Subjugator swallowed hard but said nothing.

“Shofar,” Selah called out, her voice filled with awe. “Fill the well!”

With a mighty breath, Shofar leaned over the dry well and breathed torrents of memory water into its depths, filling it to the brim.

Kinnor was the first to rush forward. He cupped the water in his trembling hands and drank deeply. “I had forgotten,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “But the Ancient One has not.”

Others began to move toward the well, but the Enlightened One stepped forward, her voice cold and commanding. “If one more person drinks, I will call my army, and we will slaughter you all.”

The people fidgeted, unsure what to do.

“You still have a chance to reject this foolishness.” The Subjugator held up the blade again. “Turn and we will not harm you.”

“No, we will not cower any longer.” Kinnor grabbed his cane and climbed off the stage. “Why is it that you’re so desperate to force us to reject the covenant? Is it because you know that the Ancient One has promised to always preserve a remnant? That no matter how many soldiers you have, we will always endure?”

The Enlightened One gritted her teeth and stormed forward. “Why must you people be so difficult. All the nations have embraced my freedom and bowed before me. But you stubborn people not only refused my gift, but have cast your curse upon the land with your dreadful drought.”

The Subjugator placed a hand on her arm and she calmed down. “All the world has suffered due to the drought your God has cast upon us. Your ancient ways have caused untold suffering. Reject the covenant and the drought will be over.”

“I thought you said our God didn’t exist.” Selah grinned, her eyes twinkling.

The Subjugator glared at her, but she remained clear and focused.

“It doesn’t matter,” the Enlightened One sneered, her voice laced with a chilling confidence. “I have just completed a device powerful enough to bend the skies to my will. It will tear the clouds apart, force them to spill their rain, and bring an end to this drought—by my hand, not through the will of your ancient god. You’ve prayed and begged for years. I will make it happen in a single day.”

She stepped forward, her eyes gleaming. “This is the future—technology, control, and certainty. Your old ways are nothing more than dust, relics of a world long gone.”

“You think you can replace the Ancient One with machines? You believe you have the right to control the very rain? That arrogance will be your undoing.” Kinnor stood tall. “It was Elder Ugab who spoke the words from the Ancient One, saying ‘O clouds depart from wicked lands, O grass wither and fade to sand. Until the day the song returns, the sky shall cease to gift its storms.’”

“He is dead, as is most of your race. And whether through slaughter or science, I will bring back the rain.” The Enlightened One kicked at the ground, sending up a cloud of sand.

Tof looked around at the Antiquarians and saw a wide range of emotions. Some had the same rage he felt written across their faces. Others had their shoulders held high and hope in their eyes as they looked at either Shofar or the memory well. While others still had unfocused glassy expressions as they stared at the Subjugator. But most were in terror.

The memory water could help ignite people’s passion. But it would only help if they could reach it without the Enlightened One sending in her army. But either way, many were too fearful to stand up.

Tof could see the way Selah’s hands trembled, her eyes darting across the crowd, catching the doubt and fear in their faces. For a moment, she seemed to waver, but then she took a breath, and he watched as her expression hardened, her eyes steadying.

When she lifted her chin to speak, her voice was clear and strong. “You’ve issued your challenge, and now I issue mine. Bring your device that will make it rain. We will call upon the Ancient One to end the drought. If you succeed, we surrender. But if we win, you must surrender and free every one of your soldiers from your control.”

The Enlightened One’s eyes narrowed, and for a long moment, she was silent. Then she nodded. “Fine. But no one drinks from that well, and that beast makes no more water.”

Selah held her ground. “And if we win, you both must drink from it.”

The Subjugator sneered but said nothing.

The Enlightened One smiled. “Very well. We’ll return with the device by tomorrow afternoon.”

The Subjugator stepped toward Selah, grinning. “And when we win, each of you will complete my ceremony and renounce your covenant.” He held out the dagger.

Selah’s eyes went wide. “No that’s not what I agreed to.”

“You said you would surrender.” The Subjugator’s grin widened as he stalked closer, the knife glinting in his hand. He pressed the tip against Selah’s arm, cold metal tracing the delicate lines of her covenant mark. “And I expect complete surrender,” he murmured, his voice low and taunting.

Tof’s heart pounded as he saw the Subjugator looming over Selah, the knife glinting menacingly in his hand. Rage surged through him, hot and blinding, but underneath it was a sick, desperate fear. He thrashed against the iron grips of the Neoterian soldiers, his muscles straining, but it was as if his own body had betrayed him, leaving him powerless to stop what was happening. “Let her go!” he screamed, but the words were swallowed by the chaos around him.

Selah shuddered as the Subjugator stared into her eyes. “Fine. Take your soldiers and go. But leave Tof, he is yours no longer.”

The Subjugator hesitated, then whistled to the soldiers. They released Tof, and he collapsed to the ground as they marched out of the village, the Enlightened One following behind.

As soon as they were gone, the crowd erupted in chaos once more.

“Selah!” The Elder Nebel voice cut through the noise. “How could you agree to such a challenge?”

Selah stood firm. “Because we haven’t tried everything. We haven’t sung the song.”

Nebel looked confused. “The song?”

Selah turned and pointed at Tof. “The song the Ancient One has given to him.”

All eyes turned to Tof.

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Excited to see what happens next? Read part seven!