There Comes A Prophet Read Online Free

eight-year-old at her father's funeral. Thomas's face had gone ashen.
    "Come forward, Thomas of Little Pond, and be taught the horror of the darkness, so you may keep the light shining in Little Pond."
    Thomas stood and drifted forward on weakened knees. Orah lunged to touch him, but he'd moved beyond her reach.
    The vicar spread his arms. "Welcome, Thomas. You shall accompany me to Temple City and return to your people wiser. And now, my friends, go with the light."
    A subdued village repeated the benediction.
    Orah squeezed Nathaniel's arm. "What will happen? Will he be all right? When will he be back?"
    Nathaniel felt a vein in his forehead throb. "I don't know. No one ever talks about teachings. But it's three days to Temple City and three days back, so he'll be gone at least a week." When Orah remained disconsolate, he added: "But he should be home for festival."
    As the villagers began to disperse, Nathaniel peered over their heads and caught sight of Thomas, hands held high in triumph, the mask of his face painted with a grin as if he'd just won a race. But Nathaniel knew him better. Even at that distance, he could see the glow in Thomas's eyes had gone dim.

Chapter Three
    The Darkness
    Thomas stared out, trying to see to the opposite wall. It had to be close, because he could feel his boots pressing against it. But try as he would, he couldn't penetrate the darkness. There was no glimmer to help, only the darkest dark he'd ever known. No moon, no stars, no hint of light. A dark to haunt one's dreams.
    He could only guess the size by touch. The floor was at most one pace square, enough to sit up straight with his legs bent The wooden hatch that formed the ceiling was well short of his height. When he tried to stand, he was so hunched over he could sustain it for only a few minutes before dropping back to the floor.
    He'd given up trying to find a comfortable position. The room wasn't designed for comfort. The teaching was to be harsh. No way around it. So now he stared into the darkness with his knees to his chin.
    The voices of the vicars echoed in his mind.
    "Let us record the first teaching of Thomas Bradford of Little Pond, blessed be the light. Thomas of Little Pond, do you understand why you are here?"
    "Yes, sir." He'd been awed by Temple City then. He'd felt privileged to be there.
    "And why is that?"
    "To learn to defend the light against the darkness." He'd been a fool.
    The senior vicar leaned forward and glared. "And do you know what the darkness is?"
    "Yes, sir," Thomas answered. "The darkness is the time before the light, a time of chaos and death." The standard answer learned in school.
    The vicar's response was a slap in the face. "You know nothing of the darkness. You've never been taught. The darkness is too horrible to show children. But you're of age now, Thomas, a full child of light. You've been chosen for a teaching to learn the darkness, and thereafter guide your life to ensure it never returns."
    They'd asked him to say the precepts, an easy test. With a grin, he recited what every child knew. "Blessed be the light. Blessed be the sun, the source of all light. Blessed be the moon, the stars and our own world which revolve around its light. The light is the giver of life... ."
    When he finished, they told him he was "insufficiently sincere" and sent him to ponder the meaning of the darkness. Since then he'd lived in this room. Time had passed, but he had no sense of it.
    At first, he was unafraid. The foundation of the Temple was to do no harm to others. Weapons, war and violence were of the darkness and forbidden. But gradually he understood. No harm was being done. The pain was self-inflicted. The constant dark allowed no sense of space. The constant night allowed no measure of time. He found himself afloat in a pond of nothingness, so large he couldn't see the shore in any direction. He longed for the light of a firefly, for news of which day it was. These thoughts gnawed at him like a