by M. Arcturus
“Mommy, do you think there are monsters down here?”
“Shh,” Nadia hushed her daughter, “That’s not a very pleasant or appropriate thing to think about right now.”
Her words were sharp, but her uneasiness was not completely hidden by her stern façade.
“Here we are,” said Juron as he opened the large, metal, double door with tremendous effort. They slowly filed into the cargo hold.
Awe and excitement stretched across their faces. One could almost see the reflection of the brightly colored metallic orbs in their eyes. The girl took off and hugged a pale pink sphere. She exclaimed, “I want this one mommy!”
“Hold on, honey,” her mother cautioned her. “We have some bargaining to do with Juron.”
It took a moment for Juron to respond to his audience. His mind was forming a theory based on how everyone was reacting. Not a single one of them was drawn to the same orb. It was as if the orbs were to test everyone’s hidden desire. There were no fights, and most seemed pleased. Juron rubbed the piece of gold between his thumb and index finger. He was not drawn to any of these orbs like the tiny piece in his hand. He wondered where the rest of it was. For one brief moment, a tormented thought plagued his mind. He pondered if the rest of his was even there to begin with. However, Nadia demanded his attention.
“Juron, are you even listening to me?” Her voice was harsh and brisk with anger
“I’m sorry, I was busy watching the excitement on everyone’s face.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “They look pretty, but what do they do?”
He was not expecting to answer that question and had hoped that they all would be under the spell of the orbs like he was. She was quite an amazing woman. Her husband and daughter clung on to their favorite sphere, but she still had the ability to resist their spellbinding call. Juron swallowed hard.
“Well I know the envoy who delivered them said they brought wealth and power,” he began. “I can only assume that they are rare and of great worth to the outside communities.”
Nadia was not pleased by Juron’s reply. She felt as if he had only grazed the surface, almost like he was trying to avoid giving her a complete answer to the question. Little did she know that Juron was too far under the orbs’ spell to care about their function or worth. She was about to drill him further when Cavatori joined them with his orb of choice.
“Honey, you should really look at these. Aren’t these artistically breathtaking? Look at the weave and the pattern of this metalwork. It is extraordinary!” He turned to Juron, “These are absolutely remarkable! When can we buy our first load? I would love to sell these in our shops as quickly as possible.” His wife shot him a death look.
“Dear, may I speak with you for a moment?” She pulled him aside. “I was just asking Juron about how they function. Yes, they’re beautiful, but honestly, what can one do with them?”
“Who cares how they function!? I know they will sell like hotcakes!” His excitement was astounding to her. She had never seen him this way.
“I still want to wait and think about this.”
“No! We buy them NOW! I must have this one immediately! If you get in my way, I WILL terminate our marriage agreement! I will not tolerate being with someone who denies me what I want.”
She finally understood their function. Seeing the look in her husband’s eyes, she knew he would do whatever it took to own the orb he chose. That was their power. If one of their shops had an orb that a customer had to have, they would do anything for it, maybe even kill for it. What if they didn’t have the money for it? Would they break in and steal it? What about their clerks and sales associates? Would their lives be at stake as well? “Okay, Hun, I see no reason why we shouldn’t buy yours and Rowyn’s orb, but the rest stay here until we can talk about this.”
“Okay. I can agree to that.”
“Good,” said Juron walking up. “I’m glad you feel that way. It’s probably for the best that we wait. There is a Council meeting about this first shipment since one of our own has already tried to steal one. I’m hoping to keep the cargo hush-hush, but there are no guarantees.”
Nadia was glad that she had stuck to her suspicions. Juron had mentioned the insubordinate earlier and was happy that he jogged her memory. To know that someone had already tried to steal the orbs proved that her fears were real and could happen. Juron peered into Cavatori’s orb. He jumped back when he saw his reflection. Instead of seeing his own face, he saw the envoy smiling back at him. He rubbed his eyes and took another look.
“No, this is my orb!” Cavatori yelled. “You will not have this one! There are plenty of others for you to choose from!”
“I’m not after your orb,” Juron assured him. “I just thought I saw something.”
“Liar, I saw you looking intently at it.” Cavatori started to shake with anger. It caught Nadia off guard. She had never seen him this way!
“Honey, I truly believe he is not interested in your sphere. I’m sure he has already chosen his own. Haven’t you?” She looked at Juron and nodded in a way hoping that he would pick up on the hint and agree, regardless of the truth. Seeing the look on Cavatori’s face, Juron was quick to agree.
“Why, of course, I have picked out my own! Please take the one you want. There’s no charge for the first one you pick out. Even little Rowyn’s is free. Though I’m a man for a bargain; if you pick out a second, you will be charged for the first one as well.”
“I think that is a very good deal. Don’t you, honey?” She wasn’t too pleased with the proposition, but she really wanted her family out of there. Something in them had changed, and she didn’t like it. She could only pray that this was not irreversible and that her family would return to normal. Her husband didn’t respond. He was still too entranced with the shiny metallic ball. Since he was too distracted to speak, she added, “Juron, we will get back to you about selling them in our shops after the Council meeting. It was a pleasure doing business with you!” Juron nodded, and she turned to her family, “Let’s take the orbs and go home now. Rowyn, please thank Juron for his hospitality.”
As her parents started toward the door, Rowyn quietly whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Juron.” She curtsied, and he bowed in reply. Without further delay, she ran off to catch up with her parents.
After she had left, he thought back to his reflection. He started to get nervous, and beads of perspiration collected on his forehead. Once again, he took his handkerchief, wiped off the sweat, and tucked it away into his pocket. Freaked out already by the first family’s behavior, and to know he had two more families to do business with made him feel uneasy. He’d better get started; the sooner, the better.
Seth watched Shadow and Selené on their flight for a moment before heading over to his watercraft. He wrapped his turban around his head and fastened the shadow cloak around his neck. Before firing up the engines on his vessel, he looked out to sea and saw a small light on the horizon. Seth’s stare hardened as he thought back to Juron’s cargo operation. After he and Shadow had fled the scene a fight broke out between the pirates and the Secret Guard; he knew this because he could hear them from the beach, but he wasn’t sure what the outcome had been.
Now the junk sailed off the shore quietly, skulking about, looking as if it was preparing to strike. Seth could only imagine what was going on in their heads while entering the silence of the oncoming night. Knowing Juron and how well he had trained the Secret Guard, he was fairly confident that the pirates had lost part of their crew and their captain. If that were the case, he was sure that a few of the pirates would consider the seizure of their captain and crew a loss and would want to move on, and some of the others would probably want to wait out of loyalty. The third reason made Seth uneasy. They could be sitting out there plotting an attack to get their captain and crew back. There was a good chance that they had lost many crew members that night, and most
likely had fewer men than a skeleton crew.
The ghostly light from her bow echoed ever so slightly on the water. As foreboding as it appeared, Seth was drawn to the light. Breaking into the palace could wait; curiosity had once again seized his soul. There was only one other time that he was lured like this, and because of his intrigue, he had lost his brother. He knew that what he was about to do was risky, but for Pandora, he would do anything. If there were plans to attack Atlantis, he would need to know about it to keep her safe. The low rumble of his watercraft’s engine lulled him into his memories, reminiscing about the events of that day so long ago, which still haunted his every waking moment.
He had been training on Kiada 3, a moon that orbited a long-gone planet when he received a message from his brother. His commander had intercepted enemy communication lines and had recorded a visual of his brother asking someone, begging someone, to release him. It was only a thirty-second recording, but was enough to ignite panic, rage, and curiosity—so much curiosity that he forgot to be cautious, and in the end, he triggered the trap they had set up for him.
Seth had just become an Elite. It didn’t occur to him that his growing power in the military had created a price tag on his head. Even though he was trained for death’s bidding, he still carried an innocent posture and attitude, which to some made him that much more of a threat and an obstacle that needed to be wiped out. Seth didn’t see his abilities as a power or a threat; he was merely doing his job.
After three days of space travel, he landed on his home planet. He remembered following a bellowing cloud of smoke in the jungle, knowing it would lead him to his brother. It took about a week of traveling through brush as thick as frozen molasses and browner than the darkest sludge.
Very little of the foliage was green this time of year on Disdain, the first planet in the Ackrid nation of planets. Once Seth reached enemy territory, he realized that his brother would most likely die, no matter which side of the war he played on, but he still had to try. When he reached the encampment, his brother was waiting for him. Tied to a wooden stake, he hung there with pleading eyes, looking right at Seth. It wasn’t long after that he had burst into flames right before Seth’s eyes. He didn’t scream; he just took it, pain and all. The fire was only the first half of the trap. The bombs that were ignited by the heat were the second part.
The explosions would have annihilated most anyone on impact, but somehow, he managed to roll into a trench that had been used to channel water into the encampment. His scales were burnt and began to flake off. His skin had suffered burns so bad that blood seeped through the pores. Smoke rose from his clothes and hair. The earth rumbled as the explosions lasted for days, leaving him buried under heavy rock and rubble to suffer in his own burnt flesh with no form of relief. Patience was all he had left.
To keep his sanity, he went into the depths of his mind to retrieve the teachings of his first military mentor. Drowning out the pain, he waited for over a day, listening to his surroundings. As the rains fell day after day, there seemed to be no movement at the camp. In response to the rain, a small trickle of water started to run along the base of the trench, soothing his belly. The soil and rock that had imprisoned him became heavier with saturation, but it quickly became his cool, moist refuge.
After three days of confinement, he was able to calm his emotions, still his mind, and dig his way to the surface. Knowing now that the encampment was deserted, he ventured forth to where his brother had been hanging before. There was nothing left of his brother or the camp—not even the remains of the encompassing huts. The surrounding vegetation within a mile radius had been leveled. Other than himself, there was no way that anyone had been in the area at the time the trap had been sprung. Whoever ignited the trap by setting his brother on fire had done it remotely. There was a very slim chance that another race was behind it, using technology that his people didn’t possess, but he was sure his people were responsible for his brother’s demise. They were starting to go mad from the stress of war; they were pretty much eating themselves alive. As far as he was concerned, the struggle was only between a small group of radicals and the rest of the community. Eventually, the majority of the population would win.
It only took a matter of weeks to find his brother’s perpetrator and focus his anger on one solitary soul. His own uncle had turned on his family. It didn’t matter that his brother had previously joined forces with his uncle, but their alliance had apparently turned sour. His brother would have never taken a family member’s life. Seth stood there in the pouring rain, covered in thick mud, hovering over his brother’s last stand, not knowing that only a few weeks later he would be driving his own Kit-Lar into his uncle’s heart.
He returned to Kiada 3 to complete his training. Much to his dismay, the war on Disdain had gotten worse, and there was no end in sight. The struggle no longer involved just a few small groups of people. It was the people. Sooner or later, no one was being heard. No one was right or wrong. They all had a right to be heard, but the government didn’t care. They had their own hands tied in dealing with a visitor from another world, which they had kept under wraps. Seth never did find out who or what they were hiding. Although rumors flew that the visitor was The Destroyer of Worlds, he chose not to believe it. Seth had other personal things to attend to. So, he dismissed it and gladly took the position on Atlantis to mentally sort things out. He had started to have nightmares of the night he killed his uncle. It wasn’t every day that he used his Kit-Lar on family. No member of the Ackrid race should ever need to deliver such a final blow to close kin. Looking back on the war and how it had affected his uncle, maybe Selené was right. If his people had started to go mad back then, who knows how mentally deranged they had become—they might even be worse by now.
Seth pulled himself out of his memories to focus on the present and started to slow down his vessel as he neared the junk. Just like before, when he saw the smoke in the jungle, the light of the pirate ship now beckoned him to make himself present and accounted for. Hopefully, he would receive some valuable information. It would be a shame to make all this effort in vain, but Pandora’s safety depended on it.
Chapter Three
And the Earth Shall Quake at His Coming
Deep within the heart of Avalon stood the most powerful empire ruled by a single lord. The mystical isle of Avalon had once played an important part in the lives of those who lived on the British Isles. Now, their presence had been reduced to myths and legends. Although Avalon had taken a step back into seclusion breaking contact with humans, the power of the isle still radiated from shore to shore. The elven palace had stood for centuries with its numerous stone rotundas and cupolas, which raced up the sides of the surrounding mountains, practically daring each other to reach for the stars. Grand deck arch bridges spanned wide chasms connecting parts of the palace to one another. Over the years the palace, traversing one-third of the isle, appeared to be nothing more than ruins as it became devoured by trees and plants.
Inside the palace itself, the energy seemed to echo in the halls like low lying hums that could only be heard by the gifted. These vibrations emanated continuously from the past to the present magical teachers and guardians, who protected the forces of life within the grounds. Faeries, sprites, and sylphs of all sizes flitted about the atmosphere, and unicorns roamed the halls and courtyards. Unlike its desolate outside appearance, the entire palace teemed with life and was guarded by the most skillful rangers Avalon had to offer. Not a single speck of faerie dust entered the empire without being noticed.
With hair as red as blood and skin as yellow as the golden rays of the sun, the Queen of all faeries sat in her garden. Her rich golden gown reflected the last of the day’s light, and she was ready to return to her husband’s side. She looked up as a commotion disrupted the guards on top of the great stone gate, the main entrance to the empire. She was nearly a hundred feet away from them, but she stood and listened carefully.
Her long, pointed ears twitched slightly, and her unusual auburn eyes widened as she eavesdropped.
“Catch it!” she heard the chief shout to the rangers.
She looked up and saw a red fireball flying straight for her! As it neared, the flames started to diminish, which allowed her to see the object flying in her direction. Instead of ducking for cover, with all of her might, she lunged, catching the Bennu bird before it crashed to the earth. Its feathers were singed, and when it chirped, smoke tumbled out of its beak.
“Good catch, milady!” the chief announced as he held up Kajaka’s green feather as a victory.
She gave a faint smile and plucked a pomegranate from a nearby tree. With her long fingernails, she peeled away at the skin of the fruit. Digging the seeds out, one at a time, she hand-fed them to the little bird. Its eyes opened, but they were glazed over. It must have traveled a long way to ignite itself for rebirth. One promise of recovery was noticed when its burnt red feathers created a small blue electric spark that shimmered from the top of its head through to the tip of its tail. She eyed the bird warmly, but her smile faded when she realized that her husband must be notified. Deep within her core of existence, she knew the Bennu brought a grave message. Giving her a head start toward the throne room, the Chief Ranger went to his office to find a way to extract the message from the feather. He knew he had to scry the feather, but how? He closed the door to his office and started to formulate his plan. Thinking quickly, he unlocked the cupboard behind his desk and pulled out Merlin’s crystal ball, which had been tucked away in a black velvet bag. For one moment, the ranger stood with the velvet bag in his hand reflecting on the past.
Long, long ago, when King Arthur’s body was brought to Avalon for burial, Merlin handed over his crystal ball to the ranger. Without uttering a word, Merlin had vanished into the mist of Avalon, never to be seen or heard from again. Wearing the velvet bag like a thick, black shroud of mystery, the crystal ball inside emitted the air of power and insight and bore down heavily on his hand. Though heavy, the ball was old and very fragile. It had not been used for hundreds of years. Gently, he set it on his desk and lit the wick of the old oil desk lamp. He closed the shutters on all of the windows. Except for the light given off by the oil lamp, he needed complete darkness.