Covenant

by T. E. Joshua

  “I could have killed you, my friend. I could have killed you.”

  I bent down and rubbed her arms. As I touched her jacket, I was shocked. A very small bolt of lightning erupted from our connection. The Awakened powers were still present.

  “I couldn’t handle the power, Tristan. It just came out without any warning.”

  “No, the power came when it was necessary. Remember? You told me that. An Awakened Reborn’s power only comes when he or she needs it. Not at will.”

  “Yes. Yes. But I couldn’t handle it.”

  “It’s okay, Natalie. You stopped them.” For how long, I didn’t know.

  As wounded as I was, I managed to stand again and limp over to retrieve my sword. I reached down and picked it up.

  “James! Aaron! Liyah! Alope! Are you guys hurt?” I yelled, looking around for any sign.

  James responded first. “Yeah, I’ve got a few cuts and bruises. I’ll be okay.” He began to walk from behind the rusty car.

  “Aaron?” I yelled.

  A moment of silence passed. I didn’t hear anything. Liyah and Alope walked out from behind the tree. Liyah’s face was cut pretty badly. A line of blood ran across her forehead.

  “Oh no, I am so sorry,” Natalie uttered.

  “I’ll heal quickly. Don’t worry about it,” Liyah said.

  “Where’s Aaron?” James asked.

  “Aaron!” I hollered again. “He has to be still alive.”

  “I’m here, you idiots.” I could hear him scuff from behind the Manchester Library. He was limping. “You almost killed us, you freak,” he said, directing his insult to Natalie.

  “Aaron, calm down,” I said. “She—”

  “No, her powers are too radical for us, for the Wolf clan, for the Covenant.” I noticed he had a deep wound on his right shoulder. I imagined he’d probably cut himself against a piece of metal.

  “It’s over with, Aaron. Besides, that was some impressive power,” James said, easing the vibe between us.

  “Yeah, that wave of energy knocked all of us to the ground. Are they still alive?” Alope asked me.

  “Probably, but—”

  Then I felt it. Everyone felt it—the surge of demonic powers streaming from behind us, the incredible rise in dema energy.

  A loud cry raged from Lyonell. “She’s much more powerful than I had realized. I must end this before she uses more of her Awakened abilities and kills us all.” He was partially damaged; his clothes, like ours, were torn from the rippling winds. Most of all, she had shoved his pride aside like he was nothing more than a feeble insect.

  “Shit!” Aaron exclaimed in fear.

  Then Lyonell drew his sword with his right hand and lifted his left hand in the air with his fingers extended outward.

  “He can’t take on all of us,” Alope said. “With the others out, we can beat him.”

  “Wait,” I shouted. In that moment, I was the only one who knew the technique that he was about to unleash upon us—the blinding flash technique, a skill only Lyonell and I had that we had learned from our father.

  “Prepare yourself, Lakota clan!” Lyonell yelled balefully.

  “Shield your eyes!” I warned. I pressed myself into the ground with my forearms covering my eyes. Natalie lay next to me. “Close your eyes, now!”

  “Blinding flash!” Lyonell shouted.

  Then a radical, blazing white light appeared with rays of energy radiating from its bright core. The intense light exploded. A dome of blinding light shone all around Lyonell and continued to grow, striking onlookers in the eyes as the rays burned with an intense heat. The technique was a cheap but sneaky tactic.

  I peeked out of my left eye and saw Aaron fall to his knees, “It’s too bright!”

  “I can’t see,” Alope muttered.

  The dome of light only lasted a few seconds. The aftermath of the blindness streamed for a little bit, however, allowing the user to fight with a killer’s edge.

  “You fools fell for it,” Lyonell said.

  As I opened my eyes, I saw the darkly image of my brother. He walked toward me, raising his dema back to the third pillar. My vision slowly came back. He pointed his fingers at Natalie and a small ball of blue light formed.

  “Die,” he said grimly.

  A small beam of light rapidly sped toward her. Without thought, I pushed Natalie aside as the beam pierced my chest. I was forced back into the concrete of the Manchester Library as the beam penetrated my shirt and peeled the flesh from my chest.

  Natalie ran over to me, “Tristan, no! No! Are you okay?”

  “Just run!” I ordered as I rubbed the singed fabric. The beam hadn’t speared through me. It only left a brown burn mark on my chest and partially melted my skin.

  Natalie stood and ran around the corner of the building. My devilish brother dashed after her in madness, gazing upon her flesh as if he wanted to devour the poor girl. He had one thought on his mind: killing Natalie as quickly as possible. The idea of her being more powerful than he was drove him insane. As always, he had to be the strongest. It was his greatest desire.

  Then, at once, I focused my dark energy and dug even deeper into becoming a monster. My dema roared. First pillar, my eyes shifted. Second pillar, my skin burned with passion. Third pillar, my teeth sharpened as I sneered at the face of my brother. Just a bit further, I thought. Fourth pillar, my muscle mass increased and my mind slipped into a blur. At just a little over 80 percent of power my speed matched his own.

  “No!”

  There! I tackled Lyonell to the ground before he could pursue her further.

  I squeezed his neck. I could feel the additional limbs forming underneath my arms, almost like a smaller set of arms. I tried to suppress the urge. My vision became blurred and my mind drifted deeper into blackness. The demon within pushed to the surface. Could I be losing control? Could I awaken if I didn’t lower my dema? I hoped not.

  “You would sacrifice awakening into a monster to protect her?” he asked.

  “If I do become a devious creature, then I’m killing you before I do.”

  “Too bad I won’t allow you,” Lyonell said, and then his eyes shifted yellowish, his skin began to smoke, his teeth sharpened even more, and his muscles bulged. “I’m back to the third pillar! My powers overshadow your own, little Bodaway.”

  He overpowered me and tossed me back across the west end. There I landed on a broken bench, feeling a sharp pain on my leg. Then he appeared before me, pressing his foot against my burnt chest. I cried out. No one was around. I was alone, alone to face him.

  “How does it feel, Bodaway?” he asked perversely.

  I didn’t respond; the pain was too great. He was killing me. My dema lowered even more, down to the third pillar. His foot deepened as I shouted for help.

  “Call out to her. Call out to her now,” he demanded.

  “No. I won’t!”

  “Do it.” Suddenly we both felt a surge of energy near us. He stopped his assault, releasing his foot from of me like a giant sparing an insect. There she was, walking toward us as if she was going to finish off my brother.

  “You have no power over me!” Natalie declared. A white aura hovered around her. It was the power of the Reborn God, the same power my father warned me about. I noticed her lips slowly moving; she was speaking in tongues.

  “My dear Natalie.” He then glared at me and hideously said, “Bodaway, I think she can die now. I would like to kill her first. Then I’ll be back to kill you.”

  “No, brother, leave her alone. I beg of you,” I pleaded. Blood foamed from my mouth.

  As I lay there, seconds before Lyonell made his assault against her, the thought of death washed through me like a tidal wave. I had known death would come knocking at my door, though I had no reason to believe it would be this soon—perhaps I would fight to the d
eath for her.

  As I coughed up blood across the field, my ruthless brother left me helpless to defend someone I had come to care about, maybe even love. I still didn’t know yet.

  My dark past had followed me to Blackfalls. I should have known better. But, as powerless as I was, I feared he would ignore my negotiation to at least let her live. I didn’t care if he killed me or not. I didn’t have any fight left in me.

  He turned back to glare at me with his reddish devil eyes. He smiled as he whispered, “She’s mine, little brother.”

  “Lyonell, no!” I gasped as I reached my hand out to him, brother to brother.

  He veered away and sped toward her, vanishing as quickly as vapor. He thrust himself into her path, yelling, “All right, you little Awakened Reborn, I’m going to teach you a lesson in power that you will never forget!”

  Natalie Schultz began to pray louder. The white aura increased in size. The two tyrants of power were about to collide.

  Then something happened.

  A massive yellow energy beam began to chase Lyonell. He sensed it at the last second and leapt high in the air to avoid being hit. The beam flew past him and onward to Natalie.

  The wave was now a few seconds away from hitting Natalie.

  I saw the fear in her eyes, the doubt, and the thought of death. Her faith began to dwindle as I helplessly watched.

  Two seconds.

  Natalie would dematerialize if the beam of light hit her. Falsha, Bors, or Sean could have blasted one from behind a building, putting the majority or all of their dark energy into it.

  One second.

  Then the unthinkable happened. The Awakened Reborn extended her hands outward. As the beam hit her palms, she hollered, “I believe!” The massive energy bounded off from her palms and rerouted back toward Lyonell.

  As I looked up at my brother, who was still hovering in mid-air, his facial expression grew fearful. He tried to manipulate the dark energy. Nothing happened. His element of light wasn’t working. Wait! Of course, now I understood. Once Natalie touched the energy, the ball of light became hers to command. It was no longer dark energy, but light.

  The energy then began to consume him.

  “Nooo!” Lyonell hollered.

  The energy shot off as small bolts of lightning as it lifted his body higher, sending him from the west end and into the clouds. He appeared to disintegrate into nothing but particles. I could no longer see his body. The wrath of Lyonell Lakota was over.

  Soon, the smoke and dust from the battle settled in the west end. Natalie lay on the ground, exhausted and wounded. There was nothing left but rubble and dead bodies—the evidence of a massacre that never should have happened.

  The mark on my chest continued to burn while I lay there in need of help. I continued move about the grass. I was more wounded than I had thought.

  “It’s over,” I breathed in exhaustion.

  The moment seemed to have lasted forever. I lay there with my eyes closed, thinking that I should be dead. If it weren’t for Natalie, then we would all be dead. On the other hand, if I had killed her behind Leroy’s Place, no one here would have died.

  Then I heard James ask, “Tristan, are you okay?” He stood above me and reached down to grab my hand.

  “Y-yeah, I think,” I mumbled. Drops of blood ran down my arm. Lyonell had cut me pretty bad.

  “Good. I think Lyonell’s dead. Natalie killed him,” James said, looking at the depth of my wounds. He kneeled to the ground to hold my head up. It was true but sad—James was more of a brother to me than Lyonell ever had been.

  “I don’t know if he is or not. We have to leave before more police officers show up,” I suggested.

  There was a small pause as I listened to the cries beyond the battlefield. Bystanders mourned and called out for help. I looked a couple of yards from me, where the policeman Lyonell had tortured lay dead. His guts were scattered next to his corpse.

  “James?”

  “Yes, Tristan?” he asked quietly.

  “Thanks for having my back. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Don’t mention it, literally. We’re family. We stand by each other’s side. No matter what happens,” I looked up at him as he added, “You need to heal.”

  “I can’t. My body is growing colder. I’m losing blood, quickly. I have no more energy of any sort, not even dema.”

  “Borrow some of mine,” he insisted.

  “No, you need yours to heal.”

  “You need it more,” he said as we were separated with a harsh force. James was knocked away from me. I turned toward his body but he was lost in the cloud of smoke. For the moment, my vision was off. I saw nothing but the cloud of dust before me.

  “James?” I called out.

  “He can’t help you, Bodaway,” a sinister voice shrilled.

  No, Lyonell’s dead or at least unconscious.

  Then a bloody hand appeared out of the smoke and grabbed me by the neck. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to push the hand away with little strength I had left but it was effortless. James, where are you?

  Then a shadow of a forearm appeared, along with a shoulder and a head. His face was burned, and pieces of melted skin dangled from it, a hideous sight to see.

  “Sean?” I asked, looking up at the young boy.

  “Don’t think you’ve killed Lyonell yet. The battle’s not over,” he sneered. “That dumb bitch burned my face. She’ll die an even more painful death than you, number nine.”

  He grabbed me by the collar of my singed shirt, unveiling his twin blades from his sleeves. The blades extended out from his black gauntlets. He rubbed the cold steel against my neck. “It gives me great pleasure to kill the number nine warrior and the second son of Chief Torah, the number one. My sister will be proud of me.”

  Then I felt the edge of something sharp lying underneath me. It wasn’t sure but it might be my sword. It didn’t matter; I have very little energy left and couldn’t move much of my body. I grabbed the leather handle and watched Sean smiled with a sense of glory in killing me. The honor of bringing my head as a trophy back to Red Valley and claim praise from all of the tribe would be great—a Covenant warrior within the single digits killed by a lower double-digit warrior.

  “You’re dead, Bodaway,” Sean snarled as he raised his blade above my neck.

  “No, you are.”

  I used the last bit of my dark energy and thrust the acute end of my sword through his body. He loosened his grip on my neck and looked downward, only to realize his fatal mistake. I twisted the blade clockwise, cutting his innards with the metal. Blood spilled out of his mouth. His face wore a regretful expression as his smile died—one that resembled that of a small boy named Tristan. Yet Sean Winddick was a killer … like me.

  “I am sorry, brother. You left me no choice.”

  The boy fell to his knees, leaned into me, and then fell to the ground.

  He mumbled, “Impossible.” the boy laid stone-cold dead with a baffled expression on his dying face. Sean Winddick, the fourteen-year-old boy of the Wolf clan, number thirty-seven of the Covenant, lay dead near me.

  “Tristan!” Alope cried out from afar. I looked over and saw her sprinting toward me. Then I breathed a final breath. My vision blackened. Was I dying or had I passed out? I didn’t know. I didn’t care to know. All I knew was that Natalie was alive, and that was all that mattered.

  18

  The Burning of Flesh

  PAIN SURGED THROUGH MY HELPLESS body as I awoke in a strange room. It was gloomy and dark. My blurry vision was a heavy burden to my head. I tried desperately to lift my upper body but failed. My lower half seemed to be healing rapidly. The burn marks from Lyonell had healed.

  I heard small mumbling outside of the room. The voices decreased to a low volume while I struggled in the bed. I tossed and turned a
s I tried to figure out where I was being held. Nothing seemed familiar to me. I was lost. The last thing I remembered was striking Sean Winddick with my sword of fire before I passed out.

  Taking additional notice of my surrounds, I realized I wasn’t in a hospital, but in someone’s room. I didn’t see any pictures or posters that I recognized. There was no connection, but it was cold, lonely, and dark. A small window was visible above my head. The shades covered the sunlight from the invasion of darkness. Only a small amount of light entered the murky room. It was then that I remembered Natalie and my clan.

  To some extent, I thought I was dead. I should have been. I had brought nothing but shame and death to my people—but I had made new friend, someone I could possibly see more with in the future. If my father could see me now, he wouldn’t have acknowledged me as his Promised Child, much less his son. He wanted me to be like him, but the problem was that I didn’t want to be. I hated him for it.

  Suddenly, the door cracked open. I saw someone’s head look from behind the doorway. Her blonde hair glittered in the light behind her. Everything else was a mere shadow—except her eyes, the eyes of an angel. As expected, she was the first to come see me. I couldn’t take my gaze away from the blue and green colors. She didn’t move. Then the fragrance entered the room like a mist. It was holy and pure.

  I sensed a familiar dema nearby. The dark energy rested next to me as I glanced to my right. It was her. I hadn’t even noticed her, distracted as I was by the morbid environment. She opened her honey brown eyes and flashed an ever so heavenly smile. Alope had rested beside of me the whole time I had been lying here. Like she always said, she would never leave my side. She would never leave me to fend for myself. We were friends till the end.

  Alope rose and uttered very softly, “You’re alive, Tristan.”

  I couldn’t respond because my vocal cords were dry. Lyonell must have punched me harder than I had thought. I could only mumble a few words for her to understand.

  “I-it’s you,” I uttered in a very quiet voice.