by S. S. Segran
The impatient brothers spat at the ground and snarled at her. Their chief tried to calm them but the older boy bellowed and propelled his spear at the woman with all his might. The woman stayed where she was and stared intensely at the weapon hurtling her way. Ten inches from her face, the spear paused in mid-air, swung straight up toward the sky, then arced back down at the young man. With a startled yelp he tried to dodge out of the way but was too slow. The spear pierced through his bearskin shirt to the flesh below his collarbone. He screamed in agony, a horrible, cursed sound to the ears of everyone there, and plummeted to the sand.
The tribesmen gasped and backed away from their fallen comrade and the strangers. To their apprehension, the tall woman began walking toward them. Some dropped their weaponry and dashed into the familiar darkness of the forest, while others stood rooted, petrified. They watched with wide, alarmed eyes as the woman halted before the fallen youth and knelt. It was so quiet, the only sound anyone heard was of the ragged breathing coming from the wounded youth. As the woman placed her palm on his cheek, the lad’s brother leapt forward and shouted angrily at her. She looked up and raised her hand. He stopped immediately and with a sense of foreboding, retreated to the remaining tribesmen.
Unsmiling, the woman lowered her hand back to the young man’s cheek. His brown eyes were open and there was a hint of hysteria in them. The woman carefully grasped the shaft of the spear and, as gently as she could, drew it out. The youth groaned, saliva spattering out of his mouth. With a burst of energy, he reached up and clawed at the woman. She leapt back, covering her face.
Glaring, the youth rolled to his feet and staggered back to his tribe, blood dribbling out and leaving a scarlet trail behind him. His brother lent him a shoulder to lean on and led him to a tree where he slumped down, his head lolling.
A deep, thunderous roar suddenly echoed through the forest like a gigantic avalanche tumbling upon them. Both groups went still and glanced around. Children in the shelters began wailing and babies screamed in fright as mothers and older sisters tried hard to quiet them. From somewhere in the mass of people, a tribesman shouted in horror. All eyes turned to him, then to the forest where his gaze was set. Five large silhouettes stalked through the trees, eyes gleaming out at the crowd like black ice.
One of the strangers, a man with fire-colored hair plastered to his face, held his arms high above his head and bellowed an intense, wordless call.
There was a moment of silence. Then, like specters vanishing in the night, the mysterious silhouettes were gone. The tribesmen gawked at the lone man standing.
“Tornrak!” cried out the injured youth sitting under the tree. His sibling and friends joined the cry. “Tornrak! Tornrak!” Evil! Evil!
The flame-haired stranger raised his hand and quiet engulfed them once more. Together with the woman in black, he strode toward the wounded young man. The youth spat at them even though his dark eyes reflected fear. The woman knelt again and stroked his head, letting her fingers slide down to the gaping wound. He hissed in pain and jerked away from her.
Her gaze softening, the woman cupped the boy’s face in her hands and murmured to him in tender tones. Hesitantly, the youth met her eyes and allowed himself to be drawn in by the power of her chant. He shivered and his eyelids drooped suddenly.
The woman reached into a pouch at her waist and withdrew a pinch of silvery powder, peppering the wound with it. A few moments later, the young tribe member felt a strange sensation around his lesion. The blood that had streamed out of him ceased its flow. He blinked in wonder, then looked up at the woman. As he felt the pain slowly begin to subside, he gave her an uncertain smile. The woman smiled back. Amazement rustled through the tribe.
A pitiful mewling sounded somewhere behind them. The strangers looked back. There, holding a small child in her arms was a woman short in stature, her long black hair braided in a single tress down her back. She had round, tired eyes. The baby let out a rasping, choking noise. Startled, every single stranger fixed their eyes on the infant.
Her lips pursed, the tall woman and her flame-haired cohort approached the native and her child. The shorter woman didn’t move but only raised her head at them. The chief stormed over, placing a protective arm around the woman in a warning to the strangers to not harm their son.
The man with fire-colored hair touched the baby’s forehead. The child opened eyes dull with sickness, and parted his small lips as he beheld the strange people. The man cleared his throat and started muttering in a deep voice with his palm still upon the little one’s brow. The baby’s eyes slowly closed.
The stranger ended his incomprehensible phrases and pulled a leaf from his leather pouch. He held it to the baby’s lips, squeezing the leaf until a single drop of liquid fell into the child’s mouth, then moved back. The chief and his mate peered anxiously at their son.
A minute later the baby stirred and opened his big eyes. His mother gasped. The child’s eyes were brighter and filled with life, and there was more color in his skin. He smacked his lips, his small tongue darting in and out of his mouth as if tasting the air. A pleased exclamation emanated from the child’s parents, and the woman caressed her son and rubbed noses with him. Holding the infant close to her chest, she dipped her head thankfully at the man who had healed her one and only child.
The tribesmen on the beach rushed to their leader’s side, milling about the joyous parents, their fight forgotten. The two strangers walked back to the beach and sat peacefully on the sand with their brethren.
The youth whom the female stranger had healed detached himself from his kin and strode with steady steps toward the assemblage of outsiders. He halted in front of the woman and bowed. She smiled and nodded, acknowledging him. The tribe’s chief appeared behind him, then. The youth exchanged glances with the older man and politely left
Looking at every stranger, from man to woman, the chief solemnly extended a hand. He was less guarded now, his posture more open. The strangers reciprocated.
Gradually, the tribe and the strangers mingled. Though unable to understand each other in the beginning, the natives were astonished at how quickly a few of the outsiders were able to learn their language, and thus began a new friendship.
Years passed, with the two groups coming together. The natives shared their land and traditions with the strangers. In like manner, the outsiders showed the tribe the secrets of their own way of life and their history. They taught them to open the gates of their minds to the incredible powers inherent in themselves and in nature. As time wore on, the two different communities intertwined. Most of the strangers, whom by now the tribe knew as the Islanders, had intermarried and the people had truly become one, sharing not only their lives but also their rich cultures and most importantly, a powerful prophecy that was bequeathed from generation to generation.
1
The small red plane shook violently as a flash of lightning streaked not more than two hundred feet from its nose. Muffled shrieks rose from inside. One voice rose above the others. “Mr. Tyler! We’re gonna crash!”
A deep voice from the cockpit growled, “No we won’t! Hang on!”
Tegan Ryder was scared out of her wits; this was without a doubt the most terrifying experience of her life. Beside her, Mariah Ashton drew in a sharp breath and clung to Tegan, brown eyes wide and her body frozen. Although they were both sixteen, the fright that consumed Mariah made her look like a horrified preschooler. Tegan leaned back into her seat and screwed her eyes shut, trying to will this horrible episode away.
Less than an hour ago, she had been enjoying a smooth flight on the Piper Comanche with her four closest friends. It wasn’t a big plane, but it carried six people comfortably in three rows. Tegan listened to her iPod and sketched a Siberian tiger on a notepad; it would be an addition to the large collection of wildlife drawings she had accumulated over the years. She absently scratched her ear as she scrutinized her work, forgetting about her array of piercings, and winced when her finger caught
on her newest one. “Owww.”
Mariah, seated next to her, was completely engrossed in a five-hundred-page mystery novel she’d nabbed from her basement full of books at home. She would only pause to push back her long copper-blonde hair and take occasional sips from a can of Dr Pepper, her favorite soda.
The girls were settled comfortably in the middle row of the plane. Jag Sanchez was seated in the back with Aari Barnes. The tallest one of the group with a golden-tan complexion thanks to his Brazilian-Italian ancestry, Jag was also the most athletic. He would occasionally participate in sports but, given the choice, would rather be honing his parkour skills or biking with friends.
Kody Tyler sat in the cockpit beside his father. He was proud of the short afro he’d obtained from his father, and his striking green eyes that he acquired from his mother. Despite his skinny frame, he had an insatiable appetite that astounded everyone around him. An aviation enthusiast like his father, he was on his way to attaining his private pilot’s license as he’d been learning to fly from the age of twelve.
Slumping down in her seat, Tegan yawned and pushed hair from her face. She looked out the window at the bright day and was just thinking how soft the clouds seemed when a yell of delight cut through the air.
“Dude, that’s amazing!”
Tegan pulled her earphone away and turned around to glare at her friends. Mariah did the same.
At the back of the plane, Jag and Aari stared in awe at something on Aari’s portable gaming device. Jag gave Aari a congratulatory pat on the head but Aari ducked, not wanting his gelled hair to be tampered with. “Oy! Don’t touch!”
“Alright,” Tegan sighed. “What gives?”
Aari was glued to the small screen. “You tell ’em.”
Jag raised his eyes heavenward. In a voice that was husky for his age, he answered, “He’s playing Descending Tartarus, the game that was recalled. Seems that el hacker here managed to sneak a download, and it’s actually working.” Then he added, amused, “Though I have no idea how he did it, and he won’t talk.”
“Seriously?” Mariah peeked over her seat. “Can I check it out?”
Aari was curt. “Nope. I went through a lot to get this. You’ll have to wait your turn. Come again in another year.”
“You hog.”
Aari didn’t tear his gaze away from the device but his ice-blue eyes twinkled. His fingers moved over the controls with quick ease.
“To think you guys didn’t want to come with us to Dawson, just two weeks ago,” said Tegan. “Poor Kody would have been all alone with Mariah and me during the trip.”
Mariah nodded. “Imagine all the fun they’d have missed if we hadn’t changed their minds.”
Jag grinned. “Yeah. I wonder if we’ll find a Sasquatch up at the lake-side cabin.”
Tegan turned and reached over her seat to ruffle his hair. “With you around, who needs a Sasquatch?”
Jag pulled away and brushed his hair from his face, scowling. “Hey!”
Tegan snickered. Mariah prodded her with an elbow, chiding, “Just because he’s the tallest doesn’t make him a Sasquatch.”
Pretending to flex, Kody hollered from the cockpit, “He may be the tallest, but we all know who’s the strongest!”
“Yeah, Sasquatch over here is,” Tegan hollered right back. It was true; the troublemaker boy was strong. If only he’d focus more on school and stay out of fights, he’d be a great student, she thought.
Kody sniffed. “Well, I’m the most charming, then.”
“Yeah, right.” Aari looked up from his game. “Only in your dreams, you are. I’ve got more charm in my pinkie finger than you’ve got in your entire body.”
Grinning, Jag leaned back against his seat with his hands behind his head, enjoying the jest and staying above it.
Seeing another round of banter coming, Tegan promptly plugged in her earphone and passed another to Mariah. She watched through her window as a majestic mountain range rolled out below the plane. Recalling the map they’d studied before the trip, she guessed that they were the Mackenzie Mountains, northern cousin of the Rockies. Then her sharp gray eyes caught something. “That’s a really strange-looking ridgeline,” she muttered.
Mariah leaned over. “Yeah.” She blinked. “It’s running east to west—the others stretch out from north to south. Wait . . . there’s another one running next to it.”
As the plane advanced, the curious ridgelines fell out of sight and the girls’ interest drifted elsewhere. The endless mountain range rippled beneath them and before long the two had dozed off.
Now here they were an hour later; the plane was shaking like a leaf in the storm, terrifying the passengers inside. Tegan peered through her long lashes wet with tears. Though the Comanche was built tough, it wasn’t designed for extreme pounding. The freak storm had come out of nowhere, taking Samuel Tyler and his passengers by surprise. The plane wobbled for a moment before its nose tilted downward. Like a roller coaster passing the tip of its ascent, the dive came suddenly. This time, there were no stifled shrieks; instead, deafening screams echoed throughout the cabin.
“Dad! Pull up! Pull up!” Kody yelped.
Mariah screeched, rendering Tegan half deaf. Wincing, Tegan leaned over and clasped her hand over Mariah’s mouth. Mariah clammed up immediately. Tegan glanced back and caught the exchange of looks between Jag and Aari. She knew the boys were scared stiff as well.
“Great way to start off a vacation,” Jag murmured to Aari, who’d gone pale.
“Oh, God.” The pilot sounded distraught.
“Dad?”
“Mr. Tyler?”
“What is it?”
The lone adult in the plane looked back as he began to radio for help. His face creased. “I think we just lost the left engine.”
“What!”
Sure enough, the left side of the cabin went silent as the engine sputtered and came to a halt.
“Are we going to crash?” Aari asked, voice quavering.
The pilot’s eyes narrowed. “No! The right engine is working fine. I just need to compensate with the rudder.”
As Kody’s father furiously fought with the controls, the friends held their breaths. In what felt like half a dozen lifetimes, the plane’s nose slowly inched back toward the horizon.
“Okay,” cheered the pilot. “We’re back in business!”
Just as the friends started to breathe a sigh of relief, Mariah pointed ahead and yowled. There, in the plane’s path, another lightning bolt flashed. Tegan jolted. They weren’t out of the storm yet. At least we weren’t there, she comforted herself, and then spoke her thoughts out loud. “It’s alright. Remember what they say: Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.”
She spoke too soon.
There was a blinding flash of light followed by an ear-splitting crack, and the plane veered violently to the right. “Gaaah!”
“What’s going on?” Jag barked.
“We got hit by lightning!” Kody bellowed. “It hit the right engine!”
Like puppets on a string, everyone turned their heads to look, and to their horror realized that Kody was correct. But worse, the only working engine they had left was on fire.
“We’ve lost all power!” Kody’s father turned around. “We’ll have to find a clearing and glide the plane in!”
The friends quickly stretched their necks out as far as possible to look down.
A few frantic moments later, Tegan called out, tapping wildly at her window. “Hey! What about that clearing down there?”
“Are you crazy?” Mariah demanded. “Look at the big rock smack in the middle of it! We can’t land there!”
Aari looked up. “I think I found something!” He waved his hand in the direction of what looked like an opening on the forest floor. “Mr. T! Check out the clearing on your left by that creek!”
“That spot’s too small for this plane!” Kody said.
Six pairs of eyes frantically scanned the surroundings below.
“Aw, man!” Jag exclaimed. “The fire’s spreading in along the wing!”
That was followed by another shout from the cockpit. “We’re losing airspeed! We have to land immediat—”
He was cut off by a loud blast. The right engine cowling burst apart. The plane trailed smoke and flame over the forest, no more than a thousand feet above the tree-tops. Like an injured dragon, the red Comanche bucked and twisted over alpine firs that punctuated the landscape.
Forced to choose between the clearings that Tegan and Aari had spotted, Kody’s father maneuvered the plane toward the site by the creek. Although it was smaller, it had no jagged rocks to wreck their inevitable crash-landing.
Mariah grabbed Tegan’s arm with a look of mortal fear frozen on her face. Tegan grabbed back, wordless.
Kody was muttering under his breath. Aari sank low in his place while clinging onto his gaming device. Jag, holding the gold crucifix on a chain around his neck, looked on ahead as though he was able to foresee the impending tragedy.
A blur of trees zoomed past the windows at a dizzying speed.
The plane rattled uncontrollably, jarring the passengers to the bone. A series of booms and screeches deafened them.
The last thing they heard before the crash was their pilot’s words: “Hold on, kids! We’re going in—”
Then it was all black.
2
The thunderous roar swept across the valley and echoed through the mountains. Many rushed out of their homes to gaze at the stormy sky, some stunned, some awed, and others curious. But only five of them were intent. They were the Elders. They stood in silence as the words of a prophecy echoed in their minds.
A bright red object streaked across the sky. The long trails of flame and smoke from its wings resembled the fiery feathers of a bird legendary to the people of the tribe. There were gasps as blinding strips of lightning reached for the creature. As they traced the object in the sky, it began to sputter. Within moments it went quiet; the deafening roar was gone. In its place there was an eerie silence as the object started to spiral toward the ground, leaving a trail of smoke that drew circles in the sky. The inhabitants watched in muted shock as the object vanished behind a distant ridgeline.