In Pursuit of Light

by Sarah B Meadows

  A few hundred years ago, my kind and a few other races claimed this space for ourselves and turned into a home and a safe haven. The inside was carved and created by the Krishyarn’s, a race that has the ability to move and remould solid matter, making building and restructuring any given space, easy and effortless. The entire ground level is the landing bay, with gigantic doors that slide open to allow large ships to fly in and holds everything needed to maintain the ships and build new ones. The first floor above the landing bay is open air and allows you to see down into the area below. All of the remaining space above the first floor is made up of living quarters, with each level varying in height and size depending on which species is living within them. The natural light that comes in through various sized holes throughout the mountainside was created by the Sealeek’s, who have the ability to channel currents of energy.

  I step out of the lift and make my way along the well-lit corridor. The air is dry, not damp as you would expect inside a mountain due to the system of ventilation shafts that was created. As I walk, I take note of how quiet it is this time of night. Usually the mountain is buzzing with noise, but now it is just the sound of my footfalls which ricochet off the dark, bare walls. I begin to wonder if my friend may have turned in for a few hours. We do not need as much sleep as the other races do, but unlike the Ayrans, who never need sleep, we do require some to replenish our bodies.

  Rounding the last corner, I find Jerhaner’s door open and relief washes over me as I realise I will not be disturbing him after all. Pausing when I reach his office, I find his face to be relaxed, as he sits at his smooth stone desk looking down at his comms device. His office is a dimly-lit and somewhat small room, just big enough to comfortably host a handful of people, but not so large as to feel the cold that can sometimes creep in during the long winters. Even with the bare walls of the mountain, the room still has a warmth to it, with Jerhaner’s colourful wall hangings and the various pictures he has collected since we have been here.

  “Why are you covered in dirt, Jack?” Jerhaner asks mildly. He has not looked up, so I assume he is smelling it from the clothes, as I have not yet changed.

  Trying to find the last of the races and species that are stuck here, is becoming harder each day. With nothing but instinct to guide us, it is growing increasingly apparent that we may not find everyone. I would not have left Kia earlier if I had not given my word to Kerboran that I would return to him to cut off an exit point in one of the tunnels of a mountain in Russia. I had to go back to Kia when I felt her mind slip so I am sure Kerboran shall surely curse my name when he sees my face next.

  “I need a few moments of your thoughts, Jerhaner,” I state, stepping into his office.

  Like all of our race, Tyrian’s have features that bear a close resemblance to the human’s impression of elves. Jerhaner is just slightly shorter than me in height, but his build and hair are the same. He usually spends more time braiding his at the sides, much like I would have done back in our homeland. Now, it just seems tedious and idol, so I wear it back in a loose tie. Jerhaner’s clothing is the common attire for Tyrian's and is made of a plant-based material that looks similar to the leather that Rolland and Sebastian wear. Close fitting trousers and tops keep the warmth in but are also incredibly light and breathable.

  Jerhaner’s emerald eyes flash up to mine, taking quick note of any minor tells that I may be showing. He squints his eyes at me, telling me he knows what I am about to say to him is austere. I trust him explicitly, as he is one of the few who knows my true identity and real name, and if I did not have full confidence in him, I would not be willing to speak openly with him regarding Kia.

  “Pull the door closed - it feels far too long since we spoke,” he suggests as he puts away the comms device in the draw of his desk. I do as he requests, then take a seat in one of the high wingback chairs opposite him, considering where best to begin. “I can tell your thoughts are deep and troubled. What has you in such a quandary?” His voice, though steady, carries concern.

  “Jack,” he continues, when I do not respond, “I have known you since before we could climb the Trees of Fresbeck. You are - how do they put it here - oh yes, you are an open book to me.” His oval-shaped face and refined jawline remind me so much of his father. A familiar crooked smile tugs at his lips, and I feel mine mirror his. That is, until I remember why I am here. I feel my face begin to falter, and I look down at my knees, contemplating how I can explain Kia to him.

  “Jack?” he coaxes with concern.

  “We found an Ayran a few hours ago,” I finally divulge, though I still do not look up at him, which no doubt is a clear sign of the uncertainty of my knowledge. A silence hangs in the air after my disclosure.

  “You are not certain, are you?” he asks hesitantly.

  “I was completely convinced until I stepped into her mind,” I admit, looking up him. “I have never seen a mind like it in all my existence. It bears the resemblance of a Haoghvan, though how that is even possible, I am not sure,” I ponder in ambivalence.

  His eyes seem thoughtful as a small line deepens across his forehead. “What leads you to suspect she might be an Ayran?” he asks.

  “Her birthmark is similar to Melana’s, sitting behind her left ear, and I could feel her energy within a five-mile radius of where we found her. I could never mistake the signature of one of their kind, just like you,” I emphasize. His face echoes my thoughts and I feel my body relax slightly, knowing I can speak openly to him.

  “Why do you question your knowledge then?” he puzzles while lifting a hand to trace a slender finger over his lips.

  “She does not respond or behave like one,” I explain, as my thoughts return to her behavior in the pool with Rolland, then my own when I kissed her. Though it was only in her mind, guilt still grows within me, knowing how my people would frown so severely upon me.

  “How so?” Jerhaner’s voice pulls me from my thoughts again.

  “Her lack of reaction to a Gauldrix stone, for one, and she was-” I cannot bring myself to tell him. Even though I trust him undoubtedly, something holds me back.

  “She what, Jack?” His interest has undoubtedly increased at my hesitation, yet he remains well in control of his emotions.

  “Just her general behaviour. Perhaps it is from her time spent in isolation,” I say, trying to appease him. He knows I am holding back, but also knows better than to push me.

  “I would be more than happy to meet her, to help settle your thoughts,” he offers kindly.

  “I will consider your offer, though at the moment what she needs is nourishment to enhance the healing process. Her state of mind is working purely on instinct right now. Plus, with The Source pouring directly through her into Rolland and Sebastian, they are not so pleasant to be around,” I reason to him, rolling my eyes slightly.

  “Conceding that she is an Ayran, how did they even get her here? Though, more importantly, she cannot stay here on Gaia. The completion of the craft we are building below is just about done, with the final tests being completed in the next few weeks, but perhaps it would be wiser to speak to the Atlantians,” Jerhaner suggests, leaning forward on his desk with his arms folded.

  “My thoughts exactly,” I agree, raising my eyebrows a fraction. “Would you coordinate a meeting with one of them as soon as possible? They may even be able to shed some light on who she is, if she is not an Ayran.”

  “Of course,” Jerhaner nods deeply.

  Our conversation turns to organising our jeanarms and other preparations that still need to be done, yet I find my thoughts drifting back to Kia’s mind and how she was able hide her thoughts like she did.

  Even I could not establish such a vast plane within my own mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Matt

  It feels like I’ve been staring at my computer monitor for hours. The bullets still sit on the side of my desk where I placed them hours ago, taunting me to confirm what I already know to be true. I’ve been foll
owing the scum bags for months, maybe even a year. Every time I made a move, they were already gone. Rubbing my hand over the back of my neck to try and relieve some of the tension, I gaze back at the screen in front of me. It’s feels like I’ve been chasing a ghost. As for the girl, surely she can’t be the same one I’ve been seeing in my nightmares?

  I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing them with my thumb and fingers under my glasses. This is mad. Absolutely, unequivocally stone, crazy, mad. Moving over to the other side of my desk, I take the bullets and begin the process of analysing them. Placing the shell found in the girl under the microscope first, I’m not surprised to find it’s completely clean.

  The bullet pulled from Rolland, however, shows its dirty side beautifully. The rifling is the same as the one I’ve got stored away, the one from the same dweeb who shot me when I got close a few weeks back in Paris. I take a swab of the fluid remaining in the cartridge and prepare to send it to a friend who works at a lab. He’s incredibly efficient, given the right money, and has never led me wrong before.

  Glancing up at the clock on the wall it reads 5:48 am. There’s no point trying to sleep now, I’m too geared up on the possibility that it’s the same girl I’ve been seeing in my nightmares for the last several months. Curiosity overtakes my need to give her space and I decide to find out.

  Making my way out of my room and down the stairs, my mind starts to replay the nightmares. They’ve felt progressively more real and I’m beginning to think I am losing my mind. The last one was bad enough that I almost talked to the guys about it.

  I see her being held up against a wall by a man twice her size, his hand locked tightly around her throat. She can’t lift her hands to push him off and chains pull her back against the wall as her legs kick out. The man slams her head hard against the wall as he shouts at her in a language I don’t understand. She shakes her head frantically and opens her eyes, pleading with him. She turns her head toward a group of people who are huddled tightly together against a wall behind bars. A small boy is screaming in the arms of a woman, as he tries to reach for the pinned girl.

  She closes her eyes and the boy calms. I see a tear begin to fall down her bruised cheek and my heart breaks. I try to move forward, but I’m stuck like a granite statue, as always, a bystander made to watch. A large shadow looms to my left, but I can’t turn to see who, or what, it is, and fear starts to crawl up my legs, leaving cold shivers in its track as it makes its way slowly to my stomach.

  The girl opens her eyes and I can clearly see the terror etched deep within them. The man holding her laughs throatily and licks her tears away as he runs his hand up her slender arm. She seems to barely notice, her full attention focused on the looming shadow. The fear working its way up my body has now reached my chest and is suffocating me with its stone grasp.

  I sense the shadow moving closer, but I can’t make out details except that it has a pitch-black tall frame which is easily two feet taller than mine. The man holding her says something else I can’t understand, and a look of determination suddenly passes over the girl’s face. The shadow moves closer to her, placing itself in front of me, which blocks my view of what’s going on. A child’s scream pierces my eardrums just as the shadow disperses and I can now clearly see the girl’s lifeless body hanging limply in the chains.

  I shake myself out of the memory as I amble through the open layout kitchen toward the fridge and grab another bottle of water. As I drink, I glance around the modern space, taking in the black worktops that contrast beautifully with the white cupboard doors, giving it a fresh look that I can’t help but appreciate. The sun is coming up, washing some reds and yellows through the kitchen window, lighting up the room. Seb’s dirty dishes from earlier still lay beside the sink and I’m struck by this oddity as it’s unusual for him to leave a mess, being such a neat freak.

  Making my way out of the kitchen through the light entryway toward Seb’s room, I hear a crash followed quickly by a thud. I pause to see if I can detect if the sound came from Brad’s room above, or from Seb’s room in front. I wait for a few beats and no other sound follows. But the feeling that something isn't right sends creepy shivers up my back. As I begin to move again, I hear another thud directly in front of me. Turning right into the hallway that leads to Seb’s room, the shivers intensify as I sprint to his door. It’s part way open and as I look inside, time pulls itself to a stop.

  Rolland is sprawled on his back on the floor next to the bed with his eyes closed and Seb looks to be sleeping on the bed, facing me. My eyes flash down and impossibly I see the girl I’ve watched being tortured repeatedly in my nightmares half slumped over, trying to pull herself up on her elbows. I sense a movement to my right and, acting on instinct, I throw a shield up around her.

  Turning my gaze away from the girl, I look to my right and see a tall and lanky figure, close to eight feet tall, with tendrils of smoke slithering like snakes where its feet should be. Its form appears to be semi-solid and moves as though it has no physical body. The smell of decay hits my nose, making me want to heave as I take in the gangly arms draped loosely next to a body that is covered in black, translucent skin. No mouth or nose can be seen on its decaying face, but its empty black eyes bulge slightly as my gaze locks with it.

  Something tells me it’s the same shadow that I’ve seen in all of my nightmares.

  Dropping down to the floor, I move over to the girl and pull her small frame into the safety of my arms. She wraps herself around me and energy zaps through my chest and arms, causing the shield to double around us as we lay cocooned safely inside. Her body is shaking, her breathing ragged.

  “I’ve got you, little one, shh,” I whisper gently, trying to calm her. With a sob she buries her head into my shoulder and shakes her head. My attention is torn from the beautiful girl in my arms as the floor suddenly begins to vibrate. A heavy thud shakes the ground as I try to look through my shield, but its dense multi-colored glow makes it impossible to see anything.

  I shake my head in confusion. My shield is usually white or transparent, not this strange array of multiple colours, nor is it ever as dense and quieting as it appears to be now. I find I can only just make out the voices moving around us. Drawing my attention back to the girl in my arms, I do a quick check of her body. She’s wearing nothing but a white shirt that is cumbersome on her tiny frame. There are dried patches of blood along the back and she looks only slightly better than she does in my nightmares. I feel the arms she has wrapped around my neck tighten and I can’t help but breathe in her unique scent.

  “It’s okay, nothing can touch you in here. Just try to relax and calm your breathing for me,” I speak gently into her ear. Glancing back up, I try to lessen the energy running through the shield so I can see what’s going on, but nothing happens. What the hell? As I try again, I feel her grip tighten as she shakes her head. “Are you doing this?” I ask her, confused. She doesn’t reply

  “Matt! Drop the shield!” Rolland bellows through my head. “Whatever it was, it’s gone.” Panic laces his words.

  “I can’t. I think she’s controlling it,” I confess. “I’m trying to lessen the energy going through, but nothing is happening.” I try again, but it still doesn’t respond to me.

  “Whatever that was, it’s gone now. It’s just Rolland and Sebastian,” I say soothingly. She doesn’t answer me as her head continues to shake and her breathing becomes more laboured.

  “Matt! For fuck’s sake drop the damn shield!” Rolland barks. He has definitely lost it and I’m pretty sure I’d be a dead man if it weren’t for the shield between us.

  “She won’t let me! What the hell do I do?” I implore. Silence follows, and I start to panic myself.

  “Just speak to her, Matt. Tell her we just want to see that she’s okay.” Rolland’s hard voice rumbles in my head. I gently rub her back and her arms begin to loosen, but her grip on the shield doesn’t. Pulling her head away from my neck, I gaze at her small, delicate face. Taking in her button n
ose and thin, pink lips; absorbing every detail and etching them into my memory.

  Her almond shaped eyes are heavy, and she looks dazed. “Listen to me, little one. I’m not going to drop the shield. You can keep it up as long as you want, I just want to lessen the power so that the guys can see you,” I try to console her as I run my thumb over her round cheek. She pulls her head forward, back into my neck, but her grip on the shield drops slightly, making it translucent enough for me to see through it.

  Rolland, Seb and Jack are all crouched around us, only a few metres away since the shield is not very big. Hugging her gently, I can feel her breathing is incredibly heavy and I worry she’s going to pass out any moment. Seb seems to take a small breath of relief, but Rolland doesn’t appear to be breathing at all. Jack stands and starts pacing but doesn’t stop watching us with his electric blue eyes. I’ve never seen Jack pace before. Ever.

  “Kia, I’m so sorry,” Rolland begins in a soft tone. “I know you’re scared and all you want to do is hide away from the world, but I can’t let you do that,” he insists thickly. I frown at him as he grunts as if someone has hit him on the back. What's gotten into him? “I won’t let you hide from the world like this. I see too much beauty in your eyes, and I would be doing your people wrong if I was to let you crumble away into nothing like that thing wants you to,” Rolland coaxes deeply. His voice is full of emotion, tightening my stomach, but I feel Kia move her head sideways to look out at Rolland.

  Her breathing has evened out slightly but it’s as if she’s having to concentrate on keeping it that way. Her grip on the shield drops a little more and the colours stop swirling as it returns to my usual white translucent shade. I still can’t drop it, but I feel like I have a little more control over it now. I try drawing it in, so the guys can get closer but it’s harder than it should be, and it doesn’t move.