by C E Johnson
The wind sighed through the branches of the trees outside the window. Dr. D took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat. “Your initial phase of training is coming to an end. The time has come for you to learn more about your history and to make a decision.” He set his tea unsteadily on the desktop.
Pull up his aura, Xena urged excitedly, he’s about to reveal something important.
Emily pulled up her godfather’s aura. Filaments of regret were whirling in his blue halo. There was pain in the tendrils, raw and exposed. He went to the painting of the female warrior on her horse. “I know your real parents well, better than you can imagine, and I’ve met your twin … I can’t go into all of that right now.”
Emily felt confused by his words, there were obviously layers of secrets he had been holding back from her for her whole life, but she didn’t care. She knew he was on her side. He knew her brother. He knew her parents. Her excitement was impossible to restrain. Her heart began to race. We can sort through this together, she told herself.
There’s truth, integrity and love in his aura, Xena whispered. Emily nodded, she could see that plain as day. Dr. D loved her like his own child. She felt like she was in a defining moment, battling in a supreme struggle. This will only make me stronger she told herself.
The tree that never had to fight, Xena thought.
“I know you’re ready,” Dr. D said suddenly. Emily could tell he was trying to speak with conviction, but his words sounded half-hearted. He whirled from the painting to face her. His hands balled into fists and spots of color were flashing in his cheeks. “Do you realize you’re ready? Are you prepared for your whole world to change?”
“Of course,” Emily stammered. She could hear the shake in her voice betraying her words. She didn’t want her world to change, she was happy, but she wanted to scream at him to tell her everything about her family, about her twin. Whatever he tells me, I’ll still love him, and I’ll never feel differently about my adoptive parents. Xena sat up on her haunches peering just as intently at Dr. D. Their minds were one and the same. They wanted the secrets he held to be revealed.
He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his thick white hair. “Let me begin by telling you a few more details about the time before you were placed on your parents’ doorstep.” He went back to his desk and took another sip of his tea. “You come from a different place, and I’ve taken steps to prepare for both of us to return there together. We’ll have to go soon.” Emily felt a jolt of excitement run up and down her spine, but her godfather didn’t appear as enthusiastic as she felt. He was still full of indecision. There was something warring on his face—remorse and concern. “The government has been trying to locate individuals like us for years. Once they latch on to something unique, they won’t ever let it go.”
“What about the President’s son?” Emily blurted. She wondered if he could be her brother. “Is he related to me?”
“That’s an interesting question,” Dr. D answered slowly, tapping a finger on his chin. “I haven’t seen him, but I don’t think he’s your brother. Your brother was lost to me years ago.”
Without warning Emily’s ki hammered into her head, impressing upon her with a sense of urgency stronger than ever before. Her ki was warning her, Danger at the door, someone’s coming.
“Someone dangerous is coming to the door,” Emily whispered nervously. She sprang from her seat and went to stand by her godfather. Dr. D’s eyes widened. He pointed his finger at the door and spoke a rapid incantation with words of power. Emily watched his blue magus flare and the lock clicked just before the doorknob turned against the closed lock.
A female voice could be heard from the other side, a strong voice filled with steel. “My name is Dysis Hoshi, I work with the federal government, with the Blacksky organization, please open up. We have you isolated, Doctor Dalton.”
Dr. D bolted to the window and opened it wide. “Emily, you must escape. I don’t think they know you’re here and I think it’s best if I go with them peacefully. No need to show our powers just yet.” He attempted to give her a warm wink, but Emily could smell his fear through Xena’s nose.
The knocking was repeated more forcibly, “Dr. Dalton, please let us in or we’re going to force open your door.”
“What will they do to you?” Emily asked, looking from the voices to her godfather.
“These people have ways of learning the truth,” Dr. D answered, glancing toward Dysis and the door. At this point, I can honestly tell them you know nothing about my secrets because I haven’t yet revealed any to you. I think I can protect you for at least a few days and you’ll be safe from them until you make your decision.” He peered into her eyes. “They can’t hurt me the way they can hurt you. I’ll be fine. Remember to trust your heart, and you’ll eventually learn the truth.”
Her godfather pulled open a desk drawer and removed something. He slipped a paper into her hand, closing her fingers around it. “I planned for this possibility. Go home and put on your swimsuit before you follow my clues.”
“Break down the door,” Emily heard the female voice command in a raised voice. Sharp noises came from the door, and Emily could picture a series of kicks occurring.
“I hope you enjoy it where you’re going,” Dr. D said softly. His aura gleamed with affection and pride. Despite the chaos of their surroundings, Emily felt strangely safe. “It’s where you were born,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 14
Creation
Out of all the planets in the universe, Acacia had one of the purest forms of energy at its center. No one, not even the dragons, knew exactly what was at the inner core of the planet, but the power was unmistakable. Some theorized that there was a great multi-colored magestone rotating in the nucleus, but the mystery would likely never be solved.
Earth meanwhile had a much lower level of power in its inner core. There might have been scattered magestones within the planet, but there was otherwise a nickel and iron center. Perhaps the differences in cores related to the distance of the planets from the center of the universe. Earth was far from the center, while Acacia was near the origin of everything.
Although Samil didn’t fully comprehend the secrets of the core of planets, he theorized that Earth might have more magical power and more magicians if magestones were taken to Earth. The magestones might act as a stimulus or catalyst, but his magestone-plan was a backup procedure. He didn’t want to take precious magestones to Earth just yet. They weren’t as powerful on that planet, and he wanted to begin his quest for power using Operation Blackbarb first. Part of his schemes involved creating a world-class assassin.
Samil was on the Island of Bashan on the planet of Acacia sitting at a round table in a room deep beneath his enormous castle. The table was adjacent to a bed where an elderly, emaciated arch-mage black magician named Laban was breathing noisily. Laban was close to death, and his few remaining wisps of white hair moved with each breath like flags waving in surrender.
Few knew of the labyrinth of stone rooms that were deep beneath the surface levels. Samil was holding an extraordinarily special magestone, a powerful marquise-cut blackstone, with circumferential grooves along its otherwise smooth surface. He was about to use his blackstone to help him pull a wraith-spirit across from Ater.
“Hurry, Samil. My time on Acacia is almost done. Bring the spirit across,” Laban choked the words out of his wasted and wrinkled form. “Make the Mavet raa.” Flecks of saliva intermixed with blood spat from his mouth as he spoke. Samil had long planned to use a powerful magician prisoner to help him form an ultra-powerful vampire, but he had never been able to decide upon the perfect victim. All that changed when Laban came to him with an unexpected proposition.
He’s a pushy old man, Skyler whispered in Samil’s mind.
His time is short, Samil retorted sadly back to his dragon bondsmate, and fear dominates him now.
“I’m almost ready.” Samil gave Laban a sour grin. He was not going to be rushed; he
had waited too long for this moment. Laban was an honorable and intelligent man, but he didn’t trust the unknown. Because of that, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when he died, so he was attempting to control the situation. He wanted Samil to create a Mavet raa to take his life just before he died naturally. Laban hoped to conquer the psyche of the wraith-spirit and potentially live for eternity on Acacia in an age-less new half-dead vampire body.
“Are you sure the wraith is strong enough?” Laban asked while clearing his throat again as more droplets of blood scattered on the sheets.
“I’ve been talking to wraith-spirits forever and I found the perfect one years ago.” Samil was speaking the truth. All the other spirits he brought across to create half-deads were on a whim, but this time was different. “You will fall in love with Maaca.” He gave Laban a crooked grin.
Just as you have, Skyler said gently.
Hush, Samil whispered back to his dragon, she has a beautiful essence.
“What are you going to do to me?” a particularly feisty young magician screamed from the nearest pen down the dungeon hall.
“Can’t you get your prisoners to shut-up?” Laban bellowed loud enough for the young magician to hear him. “I’m dying here.” Samil had a row of prison cells that housed his future victims—magicians who irritated him or threatened him.
“They’re scared,” Samil said in a hushed voice. He closed his eyes and pictured the scene inside the pens—prisoners, shivering with cold skin and weary minds, so panicked they were likely in a delirium imagining black shadows in every corner.
“What are your plans?” the nearest young magician screamed again. “I’ll give you my dragon-oath if you release me!” Other victims also began to call out potential deals. The timbers of the pens were groaning as Samil’s victims were applying pressure to the doors.
“Spare me!” pleaded his nearest hostage. This particular magician was once a very brilliant and powerful student at the school where Samil taught, and Samil had been following his progression for years.
“Who’s the one that keeps whining like a baby?” Laban asked, his dark eyes boring into Samil.
“A student,” Samil began. “He irritated me from the first moment when I laid eyes upon him when he was only ten years old. I was worried this arrogant upstart might eventually become an arch-mage and threaten my power.”
“So, you decided to eliminate the potential threat and turn him into an obedient half-dead?” Laban laughed so darkly that Samil felt a shiver go down his spine. Laban, who once had been so noble and virtuous was certainly changing as death came beckoning on his doorstep.
“Yes,” Samil admitted, “but today is not the young man’s day to die.”
Today is Laban’s day, because Laban is much more powerful than this student, Skyler whispered.
His fusion with Maaca will make an awesome creature, Samil predicted. Samil didn’t even consider the offers from his prisoners. He wanted more half-deads from these captives, not magician followers. He turned to look at the old man lying in the bed next to him. Laban’s breathing sounded like an old rusty saw trying to cut through stone.
“Very well, Laban, the time has come.” Samil nodded to the elderly magician. Samil closed his eyes and pulled his magic from the depths of his dark soul. The power was amplified by his magestone and washed through his body in such a rush that he felt invincible. His travels to Earth were making him much more powerful because for several years after an Earthly visit, he had heightened senses and magical strength on Acacia, an amplification that somewhat made up for the dampening he experienced when going to Earth. He took a deep breath and entered the gloomy world of Ater.
The wraith-spirits flocked to his own shadowy form in their world. The wraiths hated their purgatory gray world filled with emptiness and despair and they tried to feed from him. Samil ignored them, but they must have noticed a difference in him that day because they chased him and screamed at him louder than usual, begging him for a release from their purgatory.
Samil outdistanced them and drifted along, going to a particular ledge on a dark mountain where Maaca liked to sit. Her spirit came from an ancient queen of Gibeon, a city of the Javan in western Acacia. Maaca was self-made royalty, which meant she had undergone a series of tests, called the recio, to attain her status, a deed virtually unheard of among the Javan. She had once personally even led her armies into battle and she was one of the most intelligent and dynamic creatures Samil had ever met, next to the dragons, of course.
Nothing surmounts a dragon, Skyler teased.
Samil found her wraith-spirit on her ridge. “Are you ready to leave this place?” he asked her, but he already knew the answer.
Maaca gestured around her. “This spirit world has no shrubs, no living plants, no colors, no … challenges. Drogor rules here and I abhor him. It’s only made of the dust of death. You’re going to give back to me all that I adore. Of course, I’m ready to leave Ater. I’ll fight for you until the day my spirit is again taken from whatever form you grant me.”
Samil drifted next to her spirit. They would likely have a last few peaceful moments before the other wraith-spirits found them. Maaca will be the greatest Mavet raa I’ve ever formed.
She’s impressive, Skyler confirmed.
Samil felt an emotion for her that he didn’t think was possible between the living and spirits. “Do you understand your next battle?” He was surprised by the concern he felt in the depths of his heart.
Maaca’s wraith-spirit nodded. “You’ve explained to me what will happen.”
Samil had to warn her one more time for the reason that he wanted her to win. “Once you’re formed as a Mavet raa, you’ll be in a room with me. There will also be an elderly black magician named Laban in a bed next to us. He’s a five-hundred-year-old arch-mage who has offered me treasure, knowledge, and his servitude in exchange for my forming a powerful Mavet raa to merge with him before his death.”
“Tell me again why he would do this,” Maaca’s words were filled with curiosity.
“Because he wants a chance at retaining his consciousness,” Samil informed her tenderly. “He dreams of living forever and hopes to dominate the mind of the Mavet raa I bring across. Once his spirit is taken in by the Mavet raa who kills him, there will be a new form created, a half-dead with a new primary consciousness. There will also be a new, agile body formed.”
“And he thinks he will be the primary consciousness?” Maaca’s tone turned icy cold.
“Yes,” Samil answered. “There is that possibility because he is the first kill, the primary spirit, meshed with the Mavet raa. You, Maaca, are the one I’ve selected, the most magnificent spirit I’ve ever encountered. His essence will be incorporated with your essence. His aura will determine the half-dead shape you will take. You will become a half-dead vampire because of his black aura.”
“So, if I killed a red magician first, I would become a goblin?”
“Precisely,” Samil answered excitedly, “but I want you to be a vampire.” He paused for a moment choosing his words carefully. “I think they’re the most beautiful of all the half-dead females.”
“There will be a battle of our spirits,” Maaca spoke with growing comprehension. “Only one will be in complete charge in the brain of the resultant half-dead vampire. He’s strong, an arch-mage ….”
“Yes,” Samil sighed. “I’ve never heard of a half-dead formed from an arch-mage. There will be an enormous mental battle. If his spirit dominates, you will become a male vampire, but if your spirit prevails, you will become a female. The dominant spirit will also determine your primary consciousness, and the champion will assimilate the other’s traits and knowledge, becoming extremely influential in the mind of the victor. If you prevail, you will subsequently incorporate every individual you dispatch, but none will be as important as your first kill. He was once extremely powerful, an esteemed man.” Samil was quiet for a moment. “I hope you win, Maaca. I want to help you by giving you
a gift. I want to give you a piece of my own magus.”
Looking shocked, if that was even possible for a wraith, Maaca stared at Samil. She reached out her shadowy hand to touch his spirit, and Samil felt an amazing rush of warmth flood through his soul. “But why would you do this for me … you will become weakened, my prince.”
Samil felt a strange thrill in his heart as she spoke to him with such grace. “I will still be more powerful than all the other magicians on Acacia. Don’t worry about me.”
Maaca bowed to him. Samil focused on her spirit. At times, he thought he could almost see what she used to look like, but he couldn’t wait to see her gain actual flesh and he prayed for her victory. “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready for a battle.” There was iron in Maaca’s hardened tone. “Thank you for your gift. I’m honored.”
During the ukcabala, as magic was expended, other groups of wraith-spirits came to the hillside to be in the presence of the formation, sucking eagerly at the fringes of the energy in the spell to gain a fragmented taste of the life they once knew. Samil was true to his word, investing more of his magus in her formation than any Mavet raa he had ever created, weakening his powers as a magician forever. The growing mob of wraiths surrounding Samil begged for a similar release, but he ignored their pleas, completing his spell, and willing himself back to the room next to Laban.
Samil opened his eyes, I’m back. He gestured to the corner of the room. “Laban, you can watch the formation of your Mavet raa.” He directed Laban to turn and watch the process. Knowing he would never tire of watching the creation of a life, Samil studied the formation of Maaca’s shadowy spirit in the darkest corner, where her essence gradually transformed into a Mavet raa. Although all Mavet raa were somewhat grotesque and hideous, there was something different about this one, and Samil gazed on her foul form with a strange sense of admiration, feeling an unexpected thrill as she nodded to him.