Earthborn Alliance

by Matthew DeVore

  Ethan frowned. This was certainly new. “How so?”

  “Honestly… I don’t yet know. I’ve spent these last few months contemplating it, but to no avail.”

  Conner, Rayland, and Meghan appeared just as intrigued as Ethan was. Aleena, on the other hand, seemed on edge.

  “I’m sure all will be revealed in due time. For now, let’s focus on training. Do you know the three partitions of magic?”

  “Of course,” Conner answered, “energy, matter, and healing.”

  Valaan nodded. “Very good. Although everyone may dabble in each of the partitions, most show strong propensity for only one particular division. It is very, very rare for someone to master two, and it’s nearly impossible to have the power to master all three.”

  “Which are you?” Meghan asked excitedly.

  “I, my dear, am a master of energy and matter. It is one of the reasons I rose to Councilor of Magic.”

  “And you must be energy,” Ethan said to Aleena.

  She nodded.

  “And you, Ethan, are not energy,” Valaan told him.

  “So what am I?” Ethan asked.

  “That is yet to be determined.” Valaan held out his hand and white-hot streams of lightning burst from his palms, twisting into the shape of a staff.

  “Holy crap,” Rayland shouted, jumping to his feet.

  The tendrils of power converged and flashed into a solid wood bo.

  “Ethan, rise,” Valaan commanded.

  Getting to his feet, Ethan stepped back a few paces.

  “Catch.” Valaan gently lobbed the bo to him.

  Unexpectedly, Ethan felt a connection to the staff hurtling at him. Lifting his hand to catch it, he could feel the smooth wood even as it flew through the air. He felt like he could even tug at it—and then the staff stopped its lazy arch toward him and careened directly into his grip.

  “How?” The word rolled off his tongue instinctively. He’d spent months trying to conjure shields and energy spheres with only minimal success, and this was so effortless.

  Valaan looked delighted. “You, Ethan, are matter.”

  “Well why didn’t we start with that?” Frustration began to eclipse his former elation at the new magic.

  “Like I said, everyone is usually capable of utilizing a little of each partition. I wanted you to learn to focus. This is best done through struggle.”

  “Did you know?” Ethan asked Aleena.

  She shifted awkwardly. “I suspected.”

  She certainly hadn’t bothered to mention it. “I could’ve used the encouragement.”

  She mouthed, “Sorry.”

  “All right, everyone up. Today, Ethan will work on staff fighting,” Valaan said. “Ethan, give your bo to Conner.”

  Ethan handed the weapon over to his new friend.

  “Conner will bring the staff over his head and down in an attempt to strike Ethan. Ethan, you will stop the blow—with magic.”

  “How?” Ethan asked quickly. He had a bad feeling today’s training was going to be particularly painful.

  “Focus on the staff. When it comes down, raise your hands and channel your power into the wood. Don’t try to stop Conner. Try to stop the wood.”

  Ethan reluctantly rolled his neck. “All right.”

  Valaan stepped back, along with the others. “Good. Now begin.”

  Ethan stared into Conner’s eyes, trying to anticipate the attack. Suddenly, Conner stepped one foot toward him and brought the staff down hard.

  Ethan brought his hands up, only to have the rod slam against his shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Pain shot through his arm.

  “Hmmm.” Valaan turned to the others. “The rest of you will work with Aleena on hand-to-hand combat. I want to see what you know of fighting before we complicate it with magic.”

  Ethan got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. “Again.”

  Instinctively, he stepped back as the staff came down. The move saved his shoulders, but the hard wood landed on his forearms with a crack. Red welts immediately appeared on his arms.

  “No,” Valaan called from across the room. “Retreating will take your focus from your goal. Stand firm. Do not flinch.”

  Ethan squared himself in front of Conner, his excitement for the day’s training gone. He stole a glance at Aleena. She was teaching the others how to flip an opponent.

  Crack! Pain shot through his collarbone, dropping him again to his knees. “Conner! I wasn’t ready.”

  “Oh, sorry about that.”

  He certainly didn’t look all that sorry.

  The next round went a little better. Concentrating on feeling the approaching smooth wood texture, Ethan managed to slow the attack. It wasn’t enough to stop the staff, but it was enough to lessen the bone-cracking force of the first few hits to a softer thump as it smashed into him.

  Over and over, Conner attempted to hit him, and Ethan tried to arrest the swing. As the hours crept past, Valaan had Conner rotate with Rayland and Meghan. Ethan was always relieved when it was Meghan’s turn; her hits were the softest, and he even managed to stop the staff a few times. He learned a valuable lesson over the course of the training: the amount of magic required to stop the staff was directly related to the strength behind the blow.

  Finally, Aleena came over to him. “How’s it going?”

  Ethan couldn’t help but glare a little. Sweat was pouring down his torso. He’d removed his shirt hours before to cool down, but it had the unfortunate consequence of exposing him directly to the blows. Not that his T-shirt had done much anyway.

  “I’ll take it from here, Rayland,” Aleena said.

  Rayland handed her the staff. “Sure thing.”

  “Thank you. Why don’t you all go grab some lunch? Ethan and I will catch up to you soon.”

  Ethan watched them all leave. Valaan had taken off half an hour earlier.

  When they were alone, Aleena laid the staff on the ground, then gently ran her hands over the myriad of bruises on his torso.

  He trembled involuntarily beneath her warm touch.

  She stopped for a moment and pulled out her hair band so her hair fell from its ponytail, landing around her shoulders. Slowly, she put her arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

  Instinctively, he placed his hands on the small of her back. She wore a red sports bra with matching leggings that left the area exposed. He knew the clothes must’ve come from Meghan, and he was grateful. He could feel the toned muscle just beneath her silky skin, and heat flooded his cheeks. I shouldn’t be doing this.

  “I’m sorry. But it’ll get easier, trust me.” Her smooth voice was like honey. “You’ll get the hang of it, and then they won’t be able to land a single hit.” Her soft touch and breath against his ear were intoxicating. He was momentarily numb to the throbbing pains throughout his body.

  Without warning, she pulled out of his reach and grinned. “I’m glad we could get a few minutes on our own.”

  He was a little startled. Sad that the moment had ended so quickly, though a bit ashamed as well. He’d enjoyed that far too much. “Me too.”

  The bo flew from the ground and settled into Aleena’s hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Pride filled Ethan. He wasn’t about to let her down. “Ready.”

  He stared into her brilliant eyes for what seemed like an eternity as they circled one another. Then he noticed a small shift in her focus. Now. He threw his arms out as the staff came for his side. Simultaneously searching for the trickle of power inside and compelling it forward, he felt for the wood. There were small aberrations in the rod, tiny cracks that ran its length.

  A flow of power loosed from within him, the invisible magic rushing through his arms and out to the rod. The cracks widened, splitting. Moments before the wood made contact with his body, it exploded into a barrage of splinters that were tossed in the opposite direction of her swing.

  Aleena’s hands passed harmlessly by him, still holding the remaining st
ub of the shattered bo.

  She dropped the twig and closed the distance between them. Ethan could see the elation on her face. She ran two fingers down his cheek and whispered into his ear. “I knew you could do it. You just need the proper motivation.”

  He swallowed hard, caught in her gaze like a deer in headlights.

  She smiled at him. “Now come with me and we’ll get something to eat.” She dropped her hand and walked to the door without looking back.

  Ethan stared as she left, rooted to his spot.

  CHAPTER 10

  The town was a mess, torn to shreds like a war zone. Traven figured it must’ve happened during the initial phase of the war.

  “All clear,” he told Wren. He walked through the abandoned living room of a two-story house, rifle at the ready, trying to minimize the crunch his footsteps made as he crossed debris. “Surely no one lives here.”

  “Better check anyway,” Wren replied.

  They’d been searching the town for hours. Zavier and Kalma worked the south, while he and Wren worked the north.

  The town had already been wiped out before they arrived, but then more of the fake Guard had made an appearance. At least, he assumed they were fake—they had no problem attacking him and Wren. He figured they were the ones responsible for the slaughter.

  The town was dead. In some ways, he found it a relief; he wouldn’t have to enact Kalma’s orders. On the other hand, he was more disturbed than ever before. Sure, he’d seen the videos of the Great War, but seeing that kind of thing in person changed a man.

  Now they were hunting the fake Guard. Kalma’s orders were to kill on sight, but Traven and Wren had a different plan. It was time for answers.

  Carefully, he crept up a staircase leading to the second floor.

  “Kitchen’s clear,” Wren announced.

  Traven continued up the stairs into a playroom. Toys were scattered across the floor. Great. Kids. So far, they hadn’t found anything in the house. No fake Guard hiding, no bodies of the family. He wasn’t looking forward to finding either.

  Pushing open a white faux paneled door, he stepped into a light blue master bedroom. Framed pictures of a family of four hung on the wall.

  That’s when he heard it.

  The master bed squeaked, and he snapped his rifle toward the sound. The black-and-white comforter was flat. No one was underneath it.

  His eyes dropped to the floor just in time to see a little hand pull back under the raised bedframe. He lowered himself to the floor slowly. Hidden beneath the mattress were a small child and his mother, based on the photos he’d seen.

  Traven deactivated his helmet, which swept back and disappeared into the collar of his armor, revealing his face. He placed one finger over his lips. “Master bedroom’s clear,” he told Wren through the multiband, speaking aloud for the benefit of the family.

  Quietly, he motioned them out from under the bed. The boy must’ve only been seven or eight, he figured. Leading them to the closet, he opened it, only to stare into the face of the father and another small son.

  Again Traven placed his finger over his lips, then ushered the woman and the first boy into the closet as well. “Take the road two blocks from here north out of town. It’s clear,” he whispered. “And don’t come back.”

  The boy pointed at the bedroom door. Traven turned around to find a Guard standing in the doorway, watching.

  “I didn’t see or hear a thing,” Wren said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Traven lowered his weapon, smiled, and turned back to the family. “Wait until we’re gone. Don’t trust anyone.”

  “Thank you,” the father whispered.

  Traven led the family downstairs. “Who did this?”

  “You did. Well, your people.”

  “What did they look like? What type of uniform?”

  “They were dressed just like you,” the mother answered.

  Traven glanced at Wren but couldn’t see his expression since he still wore the black helmet. He reactivated his own. “Remember, don’t trust anyone. As soon as we’re in the next house, run.”

  Together, he and Wren headed back out onto the street, rifles pointed forward. They searched the entire block without running into anyone else. It was a game of cat and mouse. Usually that sort of thing energized him, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he was the cat or the mouse.

  When they stepped out of another residence, a plasma bolt singed the armor on Traven’s upper arm. He dove backward, into the safety of the building, and rolled out of the doorway. Wren dropped a pile of seekers into his hand and tossed them through the opening. Tiny metallic legs sprouted from the little black balls and they scuttled across the street, fanning out in multiple directions.

  “Set them to stun,” Traven said.

  “Already done,” Wren replied.

  As the little robots traipsed their way toward the brick-faced houses on the other side of the street, plasma bolts lanced out from two locations at the creeping critters.

  “Gotcha,” Wren said, staring at the video feed from the seekers projected above his multiband. “Take a look.” The feed duplicated on Traven’s band.

  He watched for a moment. “There’re at least two of them. Second floor and first floor, but from adjacent houses. How do you want to play this?” He looked across the doorway to his old commander.

  “We stick together. Take one and the other will come to us,” Wren answered.

  From the armor near his right shin, he pulled a small piece of metal. After attaching one of his side arms to the top of the pivot, he fastened the anchor to the back of the doorframe. “That should keep them busy.”

  When he activated the device using his multiband, the pistol swung around the frame and fired three shots at the second window position, then swung back into the house.

  “Hopefully, they’ll think they have us pinned down.”

  “Depends on how up-to-date their knowledge of our gear is,” Wren replied.

  “We’ll just have to hope it’s a little out-of-date.”

  Traven and Wren snuck through the house, avoiding windows and staying out of sight. Thankfully the houses in the neighborhood were gloriously close to one another as they ran the length of the street.

  Shots were still being traded at the house they’d left behind. “Here’s hoping they’re distracted enough,” Traven said before taking off into the street with no cover. He ran hard with Wren at his heels. When they made it to the other side, he didn’t slow, running through backyards until they came to the house with the man on the ground floor.

  Traven peeked into the back window, then pulled his head back like a whip. “He’s still there. It’s a straight shot through the house.”

  “I think this is the first time I’m grateful for an open floor plan,” Wren replied.

  Traven chuckled to himself, his back against the house’s back siding next to Wren.

  “Take him out,” Wren ordered. “We’ll grab the other one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Traven raised his rifle and lined the sights up with the man’s head. One to the head, two to the back. It was an easy kill. Three shots rang out and the man was dead.

  “He’ll use the door. A window would be too loud,” Wren said, nodding to the neighbor’s.

  “I’ve got an idea.” Traven leapt to his feet and ran across the small gap between the houses to the back door. He dropped his seekers into his hand and rolled them to the other side of the door, where they sprouted legs and waited. Dropping to one knee, he pressed against the wall and activated his pistol on the turret across the street. The thrum of constant weapon fire pounded the front of the house. Leveling his rifle sights onto the exit, he waited.

  The door swung open. Traven put a bolt into each of the man’s legs, and the seekers jumped onto the target’s back, unleashing a debilitating blow of electricity as the guy fell to the ground.

  He kicked the rifle out of the way as a precaution, though the man was paralyzed
from the neck down. Leaning over, Traven flicked the manual helmet removal switch on the man’s armor.

  “He’s old,” Wren said, taking position next to Traven and the fake Guard.

  The man’s hair was completely white, his face wrinkled.

  “Who are you?” Traven asked.

  The man said nothing.

  “Speak,” Wren commanded.

  “Hi,” the man answered.

  Traven kicked the man’s side. “Funny. We’ve got a comedian on our hands.”

  “Answer the question,” Wren ordered.

  The man spat at them, but the spittle landed harmlessly on the ground. “Just kill me.”

  I wonder…. Traven slid his tactical glove off and brought his bare hand up to the man’s face.

  “What are you doing, freak?” the old guy taunted, eyes following Traven. “Kill me. Get it over with.”

  “What are you doing?” Wren asked through the multiband’s mental communications.

  “I’m testing a theory,” Traven replied.

  He placed his hand on the man’s cheek and focused. Suddenly, everything around him was momentarily bathed in a yellow light and his surroundings were gone, replaced by a mansion overlooking an enormous lake. Two moons were setting in the distance as a small blue sun rose on the horizon.

  The old man was standing on a raised balcony overlooking the water. “I’m sorry, dear. I’d stay if I could, but I can’t.”

  A woman stood in front of him, her hair pulled back into an intricately woven ponytail that was extremely popular among the richest Urlowen women.

  “You’ve served the High Councilman already. You retired with honor. Why now? Why are they calling you back? You’re too old for this.” The woman’s cheeks were red, and she was unconsciously taping her foot on the floor, wringing her hands together.

  Traven continued to watch from the porch. He felt as though he were intruding on something very personal, but he had to know the truth.

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” the man answered.

  The older black-haired woman gently placed her hand on the man’s face. “Come back to me, my love.”

  “And you know I can’t promise that either,” the man said sadly. “But I always have before.”