Jude Atlas

A bright blue biplane swooped through the air, dodging a raining onslaught of bullets, chased by two black biplane gunners. The aviator inside the blue biplane spun the wings sideways and watched the bullets pass on either side of him, narrowly missing them. The blue biplane shot vertically into the sky, soaring through sheets of clouds; the black biplanes chased intently.

Through the thick clouds the black biplanes shot recklessly into the obstructed vision, blinded by the clouds. A spark bounced off the tip of the aviator’s left wing. He gave little attention to the danger as he continued propelling upwards.

Finally, he broke free above the layer of clouds, suspended above a blanket of whiteness beneath him, and sped forward. The black biplanes emerged from the whiteness and followed him with great haste.

The black biplanes fired, locking onto the biplane. The bullets sprayed the sky. A stream of bullets ripped into the tail of the aviator’s blue biplane. He looked behind him and immediately saw smoke drifting up. The black biplanes flew nearer, gaining on him.

Suddenly, the aviator heard gunfire followed by a loud explosion. He glanced behind himself, sure it was his own plane, but saw one of the black biplanes had erupted into a fireball.

A red biplane came from under the sheet of clouds and chased behind the final black biplane. The last black biplane ignored the incoming threat of the red plane and fired again into the blue biplane. The bullets penetrated the body and sent it down in flames; the aviator scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt but he couldn’t pry it.

The red biplane fired accurate shots into the black biplane and sent it spiraling down, then it sped after the blue biplane, dropping through thick haze of whiteness.

The pilot of the red biplane concentrated as he searched rapidly through the clouds, trying to find the trail of smoke to lead him, but he couldn’t locate anything. He took a nose dive until he broke through the bottom of the clouds, where found the blue biplane plummeting below.

The pilot dove faster, catching up to the burning blue biplane. They were parallel with each other; the aviator’s eyes widened with fear. The pilot in the red plane looked up in anger. The aviator watched him thrust his fist in great frustration as he suddenly dove faster, passing the aviator.

The cockpit of the red biplane opened, and the pilot latched on to the wing, falling rapidly towards his death. He saw the blue biplane spiraling downward, closing the distance between their planes. The pilot leapt off, snagging the blade of the wing and spiraling down with it. He took out a small gun from his waist belt and fired it into the blue cockpit, away from the aviator, breaking the glass and creating a small opening. The pilot reached through the open glass and extended the gun; the aviator took the gun and shot the buckle. Instantly the aviator shot into the sky and his parachute deployed.

The pilot spiraled towards the earth in the blue blaze as his own red biplane erupted in an inferno. The pilot held onto the wing, growing increasingly angry as he dropped closer and closer to the ground. The blue plane touched the earth, an explosion sounded from the fire around him, and suddenly he was in brightness.

Jude Atlas stood before a great being, Groth; mighty in strength and capable of casting spells beyond understanding. Groth looked at Jude sternly. Jude had bowed his head, though his anger was boiling. Soon it would explode.

“How did you do, Jude?” Groth questioned Jude.

“I saved him,” Jude spoke plainly. “I’ve saved them all, every time.”

“How did you do it?” Groth slowed his speech.

“I jumped out of my plane and caught onto his. He couldn’t unbuckle his seat in the cockpit. I gave him my gun and he shot himself free.”

“And what happened to you?”

“I fell with his plane.” Jude dreaded Groth’s response. “I died on impact.”

Groth gripped the marble arm of his throne and stared at Jude. “There is a king…”

Jude hung his head in despair. “Please…” he begged quietly.

“A king that needs a cupbearer,” Groth ignored him. “Drink his wine.”

“Why?” Jude cried out. “When will this end?”

“Drink his wine, Jude.”

“When will this end, I asked!”

“When you heart says so!” Groth’s voice boomed, a force of wind followed, rustling Jude’s hair. “When you have the heart to serve men.”

“That’s not what we agreed upon, you said—”

“I said you were to be punished until you had the heart to serve. And clearly your anger still burns with each sacrifice you make. Not yet have you been proud of your deed, and that is the reflection of your heart.”

“You said it was for her,” Jude seethed. “You said you would give her back to me.”

Groth glared at Jude. He closed his eyes and composed himself, refusing to enact a mighty wrath. “Drink the wine, Jude.”

Jude’s body instantly shrunk into a speck of dust, disappearing right before Groth’s eyes. Darkness.

King Alastair sat at the head of a long, lavish table, encrusted with gold and a purple table linen stretched all the way, from end to end. A host of regal leaders made their way to the seats on either side of the table, all lead by beautiful virgin girls. Alastair smiled as his guests were pleased with their treatment.

The kings of all the nations sat together in the room, with Alastair at the head, but the kings whispered to each other and glancing at him as they did so. Alastair stood up, realizing the murmurs between the kings, and held up his goblet. The other kings decided to wait for what Alastair was going to speak.

“My fellow kings,” he projected. “It is about time we settle out differences like men. The villainy of our ancestors shall not define the present. What our fathers might have done to our fathers shall not determine what their sons do. Rather, despite the adversities our families have toiled with for generations, let us take action to forgive our debts and rebuild a harmonious kingship across all the land.” He lifted to goblet higher. “To the present, a proud future.”

Alastair waited for the rest of the kings to follow suit, but no one moved.

One of the kings closest to his seat, wearing a thick, grey beard and yellow eyes, spoke out. “Who’s to say that such a boy, as yourself, has any right to determine how the kings of all the nations shall rule?”

A murmur agreed that Alastair’s youth was detrimental to the land. “Why so eager to forgive each other, Ally?” another king shouted. “Seems that perhaps one so eager to ask for forgiveness must be in great need of forgiveness, no?”

“Please! Gentlemen! Kings!” Alastair tried his best to calm the room down. “I mean no ill well in asking for a truce! I simply wish to rule differently than my father and my father’s father.”

“And why is that?” rose a weak, old man, with a mustache that touched the floor. “Why don’t you take to the same leadership as your father? I knew your father when he was but a boy. You are very similar to him in your passion for leadership. But unlike him, my boy, you know nothing of what the world is like. The world cannot be fixed by only asking kings to shake hands. A truce is rarely held, because men rarely give themselves to a truce. There is always a reason both parties agree to a truce and it is often selfish.”

The old king walked towards Alastair slowly, using a walking stick to reach him. “However,” he bent down and took a goblet from the table. “There is no reason we shouldn’t try.” The old king tilted the goblet up.

“Wait!” Jude sprinted into the room.

The kings all turned their attention towards the sprinting man.

“Jude! What are you doing?” Alastair demanded to know.

“My lord, the goblet,” Jude held out his hands to accept the old king’s goblet.

The old king eyed Jude up and down. “Alastair, who is this man?”

“My personal cupbearer, who has no reason to be here.”

“My lord, please, I have to drink his wine,” Jude begged.

Alastair attempted to protest but the old king put up his hand. “There is no harm in him trying. Here.” The old man extended the goblet to Jude.

Jude quickly tilted the goblet and touched it to his lips. Within seconds, Jude began coughing. The kings looked at each other in great worry, and then looking into their own goblets. Jude clenched his stomach and spat up blood. His complexion paled as his senses blurred.

“I knew it!” Jude could barely hear. “Alastair meant to poison us! He meant to destroy our land!” Jude’s vision hazed into nothingness, as did all of his senses. Whiteness.

Jude stood before Groth with his head bowed. Groth surveyed Jude’s composure.

“How did you do, Jude?” Groth questioned.

“I found which goblet was poisoned. They were all poisoned, except Alastair’s. So I ran in to stop the first king who tried to drink the wine.”

“How did you do it?” Groth asked slowly.

“I just… ran in. And begged to drink it.”

“And what happened to you?”

Jude paused as he clenched his stomach. “I felt writhing pain in my body. Unlike anything you’ve put me through before.”

Groth leaned back in his throne. “You ran in and begged?” he clarified.

Jude looked up and nodded slowly.

“Why did you run?”

“He was about to drink the wine. I had to stop it.”

Groth leaned his elbow on the arm of his marble throne and held his finger to his mouth thoughtfully. “Did you hear what happened to the kings after you drank the wine?”

“They knew Alastair meant to kill them. And then I died.” Jude took a step forward. “Groth, please, how many more trails do I have to endure? You keep sending me through time, times I’m unfamiliar with – centuries and decades apart that I have no understanding in. I don’t want this anymore! Please!”

Groth leaned forward intently. “You won’t ever be killed permanently whenever I send you, Jude.”

“It’s torture! I can’t bear it!”

“Then what if you had one life to live, Jude?” Groth bellowed. “What if I gave you back your mortality and returned you to Ariel?”

“That’s all I want!” Jude growled.

“And give my daughter back into the hands of a man unable to sacrifice himself? You were willing to do it once you learned there were no stakes, Jude. You’ve been able to allow yourself to die but you have yet to show me that you’re willing sacrifice with nothing in return. If you do not learn what it means to sacrifice for someone, how can I let my daughter be with you?”

“You’re robbing me, Groth! You’re robbing her of who she loves! We’re in love! I promise I won’t hurt her!”

“You don’t understand the purpose of love, Jude! How many men must you save before you value Ariel? How many lives must you spend before you’re willing to give up yours for hers? How many strangers must you obey before you submit to the one you love? I cannot control your love for each other, and I won’t try. But I can protect my daughter until you’re willing to love her like I do.”

Jude’s eyes welled with tears. “It’s not fair… I’ve saved them all, every time. I’ve never failed. Please, please let me just go back to her. I miss her, Groth. I miss her so much.”

“When your heart is pure, Jude, she will be waiting. I promise you she will be waiting.” Groth took a deep sigh. “There is a man on a rooftop. He is ready to jump. You must talk him down.”

Jude’s vision blurred into a hazy whiteness. Then he disappeared.