Hark the Heralds

Four Calling Birds - a Dark Tidings Story

Twelve Days of Christmas Dark Tidings is a Substack special holiday event. Each day beginning Friday the 13th, we’ll count down to Christmas Eve with a dark tale featuring one of the gifts from the classic Christmas carol. A guide to all the stories can be found here.

art by MARK of the BRAND

…Al Bahnasa Central Egypt

“The Egyptian and Spanish joint archaeological mission unearthed never before seen rock hewn tombs at Al Bahnasa. “Our new discovery is shedding more light on the rich history of the region,” said Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, Mostafa Waziri, as he proudly exhibited mummies and funerary items to reporters…”

Dr. Alonzo Riaz threw down his newspaper in disgust: Mummified frogs? Clay dolls? Why aren't they talking about what really matters?

Draining his mint tea, he went back to work on the papyrus. High resolution spectrographic images of the fragments were coming back daily now from the university in Barcelona. It was the most excited he had ever been: they had found a copy of the Book of Revelation, and it was exceptionally old, but that wasn’t all. We are re-writing the Bible he thought and nobody cares! Before him on the screen, was Revelation Chapter 6, verses 16 & 17… but then came verses 18 and 19, verses never seen before:

The Eagle, the Magpie the Sparrow and the Raven? Theologists are going to go insane he thought to himself. Feeling suddenly tired, Alonzo shut the lid of his laptop and lay on his bed. He remembered his promise to call his colleague, Pilar, when the latest translations arrived, but he succumbed to waves of exhaustion and closed his eyes. He never opened them again.

…CNN

“In what some are calling a deeply symbolic event, reports are coming in of a bald eagle seemingly attacking the President as he played golf at the Mar a Lago resort this morning. The President was visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of the huge bird, but his security detail swiftly neutralised the threat and the President was unharmed. We head to DC now for an exclusive report…”

“That goddamn bird spoke to me!” raged POTUS to his staffers. “It was some kind of fake bird robo-spy missile! Leftists! Pentagon Stooges! And tell that loser running my security detail he’s fired.”

…Meall a' Bhuachaille Scottish Highlands

The game warden regarded the stricken bird sorrowfully, and from a safe distance. She radioed back to base. “Donnie, I'm about half way up, top of the scree. There’s a golden eagle, poisoned by the look of it. Can you get hold of the vet? Mountain rescue maybe? He’s a big bugger. You should see the beak on it! I cannae manage him on my own.”

The eagle flapped itself up and onto its clawed feet and stared at her. “I am a herald of Zelos, bringer of conquest,” it rasped.

“Jesus Christ!” the warden stumbled, shocked and fell backwards down the scree slope. Head over heels and scrabbling for a handhold she went, helpless to stop her fall. The radio flew from her hands and with a crack, her head struck a rock. When they found her, the eagle lay dead by her side, its beak resting against her ear. Two days later, in hospital, when doctors and nurses were out of earshot, she turned to Donnie and whispered “Donnie, I think I’m going mad - that bloody bird spoke to me!”

…Northern India

High above Vaishno Devi temple in the mountains north of Jammu, the Jagar sat in trance: a shaman in contemplation of the spiritual plane. Behind his closed eyes, bright and colourful shapes swam in the rarefied air. He sought to converse with Lakshmi, goddess of the mountain. The pain of the rocks beneath his knees had become warmth. He felt a sudden breeze about his head, the lightest of touches - was it the Goddess? Opening his eyes he started up in shock: before him was a magnificent eagle. The two regarded each other Surely it is the Goddess! thought the Jagar.

“Namaste, Garuda, spirit of the mountain,” he said. The Eagle, in reply, stretched out its wings, flapped them powerfully, then tucked them back in at its side. “It is said that if an eagle shall touch a man’s head, he shall know trouble,” said the Jagar “but surely you bring blessings?”

“Namaste,” the Eagle responded “I am a herald of Zelos, bringer of conquest. Indeed troubles come. Hear me, holy man.”

When the shaman hastened down to the temple, the words of the great bird burning between his ears, he could find not a soul to believe him. Boodha sharaabee! Are you sure it wasn't the Johnny Walker speaking, you old drunk? Despite the mockery that followed him, the Jagar was fervent with the telling of his story throughout Jammu. A great eagle, a “Herald of Zelos”, had spoken to him, had warned of conquest sweeping the earth and all mankind before it. It wasn't long before the Jagar’s story began to spread, bringing countless thousands to the temple, hoping to witness the miraculous bird for themselves.

…Hunan Province, China

Wu Li-Hua sulked. “No birds in the house!” her mother had insisted, and shooed her outside. “She would not listen, Yaoguai,” she said to the bird, as it hopped from her sleeve onto her arm. “Grandfather says that when he was young, everyone had to kill sparrows because they ate all the grain. But then the locusts came, and they ate everything. Perhaps mother feels shame?”

“I will fly to your mother and speak,” said the bird, but when it flew through the kitchen window, Li-Hua’s mother swatted it deftly from the air with a rice paddle and a shriek, before it could utter a word. Barely had the body of the sparrow hit the ground than another flew down to Li-Hua from the cherry tree. “I am a herald of Limos, bringer of famine. Take me to someone who will listen, child.”

So the girl went to the elderly Village Leader, and the sparrow spoke to him. He was a man from a time when demons were still real, and a man who had survived the scourge of Mao. Bowing to the bird he took it with reverence to the leader of the provincial sub division, who took it to the county leader of the Peoples’ Congress, who took it to the Mayor of Changsha who took it to the County Governor and thus eventually, the tiny bird came before the Premier of the People’s Republic of China.

”I am a Herald of Limos, bringer of famine,” it said, and the Premier listened. Famine haunted China.

…Russian Federation

Deep in the Valdai Forest, within a sullenly fortified dacha, two ex-spetsnaz guarded a heavy door. Gromov, Deputy Chief of Staff, approached, junior officials carrying armoured cases catching up behind.

“Is he still in there? Talking to that fucking bird?”

The guards were not sure how to respond, but as Gromov moved to enter, the guards moved to stop him.

“He left orders not to be disturbed. Sir. Under any circumstances.”

Gromov seethed “Please tell him that when he has finished discussing military strategy with Veshnitsa-Soroka, his ministers have important matters which await his attention. Matters on which the military success of the nation depends.” he wanted to add “and also his own future” but thought better of it.

Within the room, the President sat in luxurious surroundings. A fire crackled, music played. There was his favourite tea, and there was the bird; the magpie with the blood red mark inside its beak. It had declared itself to him as a Herald of Martius, bringer of war to the world. It had come to him one morning when he swam in the lake. It told him of what was to come and he listened and believed. The President was ready for war; he was not afraid.

…City of London

Yeoman Warden Harris craned his neck but he couldn't make out what was happening. A huge crowd was forming around the raven enclosure, and he was worried about the birds. Chandler, the Ravenkeeper, was nowhere to be seen. He’d have to go himself. Donning his ceremonial hat he left the barracks and marched briskly down to the enclosure, politely but firmly ordering the crowds to let him through. He soon understood why people had gathered.

Perched atop the aviary was a magnificent raven. And it was talking, or at least that’s how it seemed. “I am the Herald of Thanatos, bringer of death to the world. Hear me,” it croaked. Below it, in the cage, the seven ringed ravens of the Tower bobbed and ducked their heads, gronking and cawing as the raven spoke. The crowd seemed delighted, laughing and filming the bird.

Warden Harris was stunned. They think this is a trick, but that bird is not one of ours…and it's bloody talking! He called on his radio again to the Ravenkeeper “Chandler, you need to get here NOW!”

With fresh meat, the talking raven was easily caught and taken inside where the Yeomanry from around the Tower gathered to witness this bizarre spectacle. “They’re amazing mimics,” said the Ravenkeeper, “But this? It’s like it’s actually talking!”

“Listen well! Thanatos rides the pale horse. Death comes to the world.” it croaked

“Who do we talk to about this?” said Harris “the vet?”

“Sounds like a terrorist threat to me…one for special branch.”

“What about the King? He talks to plants don’t he? Old Charlie boy, he’d love a talkin’ bird!”

The men laughed.

…Al Bahnasa Egypt

Pilar was concerned. It was just not like Alonzo, this silence, for two days now. He’d promised he would call as soon as the latest translations had arrived. She called the site manager at the dig, but nobody had seen him. Something didn't feel right. She set off for his ramshackle accomodation, and when he didn’t answer the door, she let herself in. In a nearby car, two men sat, watching. “E arrivata la donna, Monsignore,” one of them spoke into a satellite phone.

Pilar found Alonzo lifeless in his bed, lips blue-black and a crust of foam around his mouth. As she frantically tried to rouse him, two masked men slid into the apartment and rapidly overpowered her. Working quickly, the men methodically ransacked the rooms - computers, files, notebooks. Under cover of darkness, a van arrived and the men left, sliding Pilar in, hooded and bound, through the side door.

…GCHQ London

Reporting Officer Brunswick completed her latest SIGINT report. Activity had been intense since well before the Ukrainian special operation had begun, but the Russian President’s movements had always been difficult to determine, until recently…Something was afoot, she could sense it. A new source placed Putin more and more frequently at the Dacha, despite unrest amongst high ranking officials and growing economic pressures which should have kept him in Moscow. But strangest of all were reports that he was talking with a bird.

“What do you make of this,” she asked a colleague “Putin losing his marbles finally?”

“Talking birds eh? Must be something in the water - did you hear about the raven at the Tower? They’re at it as well.”

Brunswick sent her report up and then watched bodycam footage from a personal security officer who had accompanied King Charles to the Tower of London. The footage of the talking raven left them both open mouthed.

“It’s got to be deepfake!” exclaimed Brunswick.

“I dunno about that…they’ve got it over at Porton Down Research Facility; look.”

…Kiev

As with all SIGINT reports, a strategic decision is made whether to share it with foreign intelligence agencies, if that might further British interests. And so, the report of Russia’s president’s increasing preference for his Dacha crossed the desk of Budanov, head of Ukrainian military intelligence. This corroborated intelligence from agents within Russia, which he never took strictly at face value. But now? He gave orders. Timing would be critical. The strike would take everything they had.

…Christmas Eve, Vatican City

“And what of the woman?” asked the Cardinal, the shadows of the candle-lit room masking his features almost entirely.

“She is with God.”

The Cardinal sat with this for some time. “See to the fire, will you. It grows cold.” The Monsignor began to rake the coals and add more logs. As he did so, the Cardinal went on. “What did we learn?”

“She told us everything. That was made certain, your Eminence. Their research was not finished, they were not ready to publish. Everything found was gathered from Egypt. The excavations have been…cleansed.”

“And what of the pieces at the university?”

“That is in hand also.”

The fire crackled and spit as the logs began to catch. The Cardinal shifted in his seat. “You have done well, Monsignor, but…”in hand”? What, pray, is the delay? The need of the Church is great and you want for nothing.”

“Your Eminence, we proceed as swiftly as caution allows. To act hastily… rashly would risk revealing our hand. Your trust rests safely with the Order. Be assured.”

The Cardinal stood and walked to the window, gazing out over the city.

“It grows cold,” he said again “Don’t you feel it?”

“Indeed, your Eminence. It may even snow before the year is out.”

The Cardinal beckoned him over to the window and took a ring from his finger, a signet ring embossed with the image of a trumpet horn. “Monsignor,” he said, holding the ring up between finger and thumb “Tell me…what do you believe in?”

Taken aback by the question, fearing, perhaps some sort of test, he did not know what to reply; did not know what he should say first.

“Your Eminence…“ he faltered, but the Cardinal silenced him with a finger to his lips and a smile. “It is enough that you have done our bidding, Monsignor, without question. Now, the time is at hand. Take this ring to the Archbishop Kontidis in Athens. You need say nothing, but do as he bids, go where he asks. Arrangements for your travel have been made. Make haste.”

The Monsignor bowed slightly and swept from the Cardinal’s chambers. The Cardinal returned to his observation through the window. It was not long before a sleek black car drove through the courtyard and out of the gates. At this, he turned and walked over to an ornate cabinet. With deft touches, hidden catches were pressed and a secret drawer opened. He withdrew from it a long trumpet horn, its burnished gold glowed in the firelight.

…St Stephen’s Day Vatican City

The Monsignor looked stooped and travel worn and his eyes were circled darkly with fear as he stood once more before the Cardinal. He held out a velvet bag of deep crimson. From within, seven signet rings fell heavy into the Cardinal’s hand which he closed around them.

“An auspicious day, Monsignor. Your efforts will be rewarded. In this life and the one that comes. Go. Rest. You must be weary from your travels. You look to have hardly slept.”

“Thank you Eminence.” The Monsignor made to leave the room but at the door, he gathered resolve from somewhere and stood taller before turning round to face the Cardinal.

“Your Eminence. If I may…what purpose have these labours served of late? What service have I given to the Church?”

“Do you read the scriptures?” asked the Cardinal

“But of course, Eminence.”

“And do you believe what is written?”

“...Yes…Eminence.”

There was a long silence as they regarded one another. The face of the Cardinal said You know in your heart of what I speak, and the face of the Monsignor told him that he did.

“Come with me then. Bear witness.”

The Cardinal went to the cabinet and once more took up the golden trumpet horn. By secret passageways they ascended to the roof of the Vatican palace and stood to face the East as the sun began to sink, sending burning tongues of fire across the sky. The Cardinal’s robes fell from him, revealing him to be naked beneath. He outstretched his arms and bright rays of the whitest light began to crack through his skin as it sloughed off. The Monsignor backed away in awe and wonder as the Cardinal transformed into pure light, with radiant wings unfolding. Its body grew and ascended into the air. It raised the trumpet to its lips and brought forth a sound that rolled and echoed and reverberated across the city, into the coming night and across the world.

---

In the Valdai Forest dacha the Russian Premier stroked the glossy blue-black plumage of the magpie. Flashes of blood red showed as it spoke quietly and insistently “The time has come”. A complex arming device sat before them, a satellite phone connected to it. He gave the orders, then settled back into his chair. The birds take flight.

Later, the air-raid alarms sounded, sirens began wailing one after another from multiple directions. He walked to the french windows and stepped outside. Trails of fire hissed into the sky as anti missile batteries engaged. The oscillating sound of the sirens and thousands of wasp-like drones began to merge and coalesce into a single blaring tone. The magpie flew from the room and up into the night, cackling in alarm. For an instant it was made silhouette but then was consumed by the inferno.

---

Revelation 8:7 - The first angel sounded his trumpet, and there came hail and fire mixed with blood, and it was hurled down on the earth. A third of the earth was burned up, a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.

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This has been a Dark Tidings story and I apologies to readers for going a bit over the suggested wordage.

Offering up eternal thanks to

Garen Marie

for the idea and making it happen AND huge respect to

MARK of the BRAND

for the stunning visuals and the Rest of the Gang for their beautiful work.

John Coon

posted The Ring Bearers yesterday and look out for

Bridget Riley

and Beaks Bloody on the 22nd.