Elemental Courage

by M. W. McDonald

  The world was quickly changing drastically all because of one son’s love for his mother.

  11

  Alex was usually quite calm and collected. Even the biggest corporate deals did very little in the way of setting him on edge, but right now his 6-foot frame shook at its very core. He was rattled. He had lost his train of thought as a ripple of energy enveloped his boardroom and passed over his coworkers as they anxiously awaited the new merger figures. He had caught a glimpse of a set of swords on the sides of the man sitting opposite of him. They were onyx in color and seemed to seek out shadow for shelter. The man was Vincent Crezlin. He was a well-known and influential businessman, more feared than respected. Vincent wasn’t a physically imposing figure. At 5’10” and maybe 190 pounds, Vincent wasn’t exactly a big man; however his eyes were what scared people. His eyes were dead; they had glazed functionality that is born of great violence and the disconnection required to accomplish that violence. In fact, it was said that the people he truly didn’t want in his business had a very short life expectancy. There was never any proof of course.

  Thankfully for monetary reasons, Vincent tolerated Alex. He had made him a lot of money after all. That relationship seemed to end instantly as both men stared at each other across the massive desk of spectators apparently blind to the two long blades of shadow and their presenter with veins in his forearms that coursed with a bright living fire. Vincent’s form had taken only seconds to recover and was now wreathed in an ever darkening shadow. The tension in the room caused the lights to flicker and dim.

  “We will continue this tomorrow,” Alex said, seizing the opportunity. He snatched up his things quickly.

  “Damn maybe all of these years had dulled my senses.” He thought to himself as his mind tried to find an explanation for the unexplainable. He hadn’t felt anything from Vincent in almost six years of working for him.

  “Limiters, that’s the only way.” Alex cursed at himself for his own complacency, as he glanced around the emptying room to see if anyone heard him. He had been wearing a limiter himself, his belt typically hid his abilities without any issues, but it felt as if that electric energy wave disabled limiters for a few brief moments. Even if the device was disabled for only a fraction of a second, it had apparently been long enough. People were filing out of the room mumbling. Vincent broke eye contact with Alex for a moment as one of his employees crossed his line of sight. When the employee finally cleared his vision Alex was gone. Limiters were now back in operation with the shockwave passed. Vincent wouldn’t be able to track him, at least not by his ordinary means. A wicked smile formed at the corner of Vincent’s mouth. This will be a glorious distraction from the monotony of business deals. His blades screamed for action. The hunt was on.

  Alex had very little time. He heard his grandfather’s voice in his head urging him on; faster, you must go faster. He knew he had to find someplace safe. At this moment Vincent was probably freeing up this afternoon or perhaps taking an early vacation.

  “Always business first with Vincent,” Alex thought out loud. He was trying to recall every detail he could muster about his soon-to-be assailant. Alex had worked with Vincent for years but knew surprisingly little about the man outside of his cut-throat business persona. Alex shivered unconsciously at the thought of that same persona being Vincent’s everyday persona. He picked through his memories carefully trying to recall every detail possible. He remembered seeing two long-handled blades at Vincent’s hip. Two. If he had two, then he wasn’t an assassin, he tried to recall his grandfather’s teachings. He had painstakingly taught Alex much through the years.

  His spirit gathered hope for a moment, Vincent wasn’t an assassin. He remembered something else. When the limiters stopped working, the room started going dark. Shadows seeped in. That meant Vincent was very sharply attuned to the shadow element, much more so than the average shaman. Most shamans are unable to produce an aura of that size and of that speed, if at all.

  “Two of them, why does he have two?” His heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he realized his predicament.

  “He’s a hunter.” Alex shook his head as he got off the elevator and ran out a set of heavy glass doors.

  “And I am going to be his prey.”

  12

  Brian was exhausted. He was sitting in an overstuffed leather chair in the corner of the living room holding a package of frozen peas to his forehead. He was hoping to ease the acute pain of a massive headache.

  “Head still hurt?” Michael came in handing Brian a couple of aspirin and a bottle of water.

  “No, actually I felt like I wasn’t getting enough green in my diet and thought these would defrost faster on my face,” Brian spoke with a sarcastic laugh buried in his voice.

  “Thanks, Mike,” He said with a chuckle, taking the pills.

  “That was intense,” Michael said, anxiously pacing a few feet away while reliving the last moments of the night before. “You both lit up like Christmas tree lights.” Michael was unabashedly impressed with the light show.

  “So much energy,” Brian said, closing his eyes and rubbing the package of quickly defrosting peas across his forehead once more before setting them down on the table beside him. He settled deep in the chair and closed his eyes.

  “What did he do?” Michael asked, looking out the window at the cityscape before him feeling unsure about his place in the world for the first time in his life.

  “Do what?” Brian asked, woken up from his solid doze. Brian’s eyes remained half open on the verge of falling over the cliff of desperately needed sleep.

  “What did William do?” Michael asked again, his amber eyes fixed on Brian.

  “Damnedest thing I have ever seen or felt for that matter,” Brian said, recalling the feeling of William pumping raw rift energy into Dyaina’s body. William had destroyed all of her inner barriers and had rebuilt them faster than he ever thought possible. It was all Brian could do to focus the boy’s energy into a general area. Brian leaned forward gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

  “He did what most healers, doctors and shaman alike, wished they could do. Now we wait and see if it worked. His love for her is really something to behold. I was connected to both of them during the process. I felt everything. He wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. The scary thing is I became afraid of whomever or whatever might stand in his way.”

  “Bah!” Michael scoffed his tone was mocking. “I could take him.”

  “Sorry to break it to you Mike, but I couldn’t take him if he was sleeping and I ran him over with my car. I know what he is.” Brian’s eyes grew misty; the emotions of Dyaina’s passing were still raw.

  “Dyaina told me William is critical. To be present, to be a part of such a powerful bond, something so significant was a tremendous honor.” His mind was overcome with emotion. Brian stopped talking to gather his thoughts more clearly.

  “Think they are going to be ok?” Michael asked looking back towards the other room.

  “I don’t really know, William channeled raw rift energy through a body that was meant to die by its touch. I suppose after everything I have seen and felt I probably shouldn’t count out anything right now. I can’t help them anymore.”

  “Why not?” Michael asked. He never liked to see someone quit.

  “William is pure energy; what I would do for him is like dropping a grain of sand on a beach. It wouldn’t be noticed.”

  “And Dyaina?” Michael asked again, there had to be something that could be done.

  “She is too weak. If either of them lives through the night, I can guarantee they won’t be the same. Now, you should go check on your father. I have to get some kind of sleep.” Brian spoke drowsily as he wrapped the Smurf towel across his arms and settled back in the chair and closed his eyes.

  “We have a bigger problem now,” Brian thought to himself as the darkness of sleep crept in on him quickly. “The situation won’t change between now and morning, I’ll tell Dav
id tomorrow.” Brian began snoring as soon as his eyes shut. He had odd dreams of light sockets and cartoons.

  13

  David had moved a futon into the living room for William. He set it up a couple of feet away from his mother, but parallel to the sofa. David picked up his limp form, and lay William down gently upon it. He scanned the boy’s back; it was burnt in random slashing patterns. The chaotic bolts of rift energy do not take kindly to being tamed, and they reaped their vengeance across his son’s flesh doing quite a number on his back. Dozens of burnt and raw gouges decorated his back from his shoulders down to his waist.

  William’s breathing was hoarse and shallow. David pulled a chair from the kitchen and placed it between his wife and son. He sat between them and settled in for a long night. His son rested to his right, such a strong-willed young man. He put himself at death’s door to bring his mother back. The most gloriously frightening experience in David’s aged life had come from the body and mind of his 18-year-old son.

  Brian had described some of the possible outcomes of last night’s events. Dyaina might never wake up; the fixes William put into place could crumble, and they would lose her again. It was also possible that she could live; she would, of course, have side effects, but it wasn’t possible to know them. This was unprecedented. The shamans within the Assassins of Khorynn were the only shamans to have used resurrection in any form. They called it blood essence reanimation. Their significant side effect was full-term memory loss. They had to relearn everything; walking, talking, fighting, and killing. This worked in their favor though. It made them the perfect, virtually endless rechargeable puppets.

  He shifted his eyes from William to Dyaina. For the moment at least, David was happy with a straightforward fact: Dyaina was breathing. The color was returning to her skin more and more with every passing hour. David sighed, relieved and hopeful.

  Her chest was rising and falling, a miracle by all accounts. The peace of sleep embraced her. To say that David was astonished when William lit the air ablaze would have been a gross understatement. Yet, to see William channel the rift energy from the portal he held open was awe inspiring. The slashing bolt of bluish-white lightning tore the air and slammed into William’s back vaporizing a portion of his shirt. David saw the arcs of that same energy race down his arms into Dyaina and pour from William’s eyes in vast torrents of uncontrollable power. The exact moment of both fear and celebration for David came from watching his newly passed on wife of centuries arch her back with life renewed after he had felt her die. William had howled in sadness. Losing her wasn’t an option, he would endure any pain or struggle to protect his loved ones. David saw that in him, and beamed with pride. He also saw the potential of Khorynn in the boy, and that terrified him. Now, with the dust settled, the only evidence of the miracle was the char marks across his floor where the searing bolt licked the tiles, across William’s back and in the shape of William’s hand outline burned into Dyaina’s upper abdomen.

  David held his wife’s hand tenderly, his thumb rubbing the top of her palm. How he loved her still. It tore his heart out when she asked him to let her take William and try and live out a healthy life with the child away from everything she had ever known. He agreed thinking that it was what she really wanted and he, of course, wanted her to be happy. David wouldn’t let her go again if she made it through this.

  “I’m never letting you go again,” he leaned forward speaking into her ear softly.

  “You hear me? You are stuck with me now.” A tear rolled down his cheek as he kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand softly.

  Dyaina squeezed back.

  14

  Vincent hadn’t felt a rush like this in a very long time. He knew he would have a challenge tracking this prey, but never imagined how resourceful Alex would be. Vincent had felt the energy ripple, just as every other shaman did. What he wasn’t prepared for, was seeing his primary financial consultant and protégé standing before a mergers meeting with his forearm tattoos glowing like liquid fire beneath his shirt sleeves, his short red hair glowing a muted yellow-orange at the roots. Vincent’s blood had begun to boil with adrenaline causing his tenuous hold on his abilities to weaken. Alex had seen his aura and yet still kept his cool. Vincent had been a hunter for nearly half a millennia, and nothing thrilled this powerful man more than prey that had possessed the fortitude to hide their fear. Alex hid it well, but as Vincent walked the dimly lit street, he felt the pressure of residual essence get stronger. He wasn’t far now.

  15

  Alex ducked into a diner and sat in the back facing the door. He had to stop for a moment and collect his thoughts. He had been running for hours, pausing only to catch his breath in an alley or to glance over his shoulder. He carried just a small satchel of his belongings that he had slung over his shoulder as he ran; he always preferred to travel light. Alex hoped the small crowd of people at the other end of the diner would deter any direct attempts on his life.

  A middle-aged waitress acknowledged him from behind the counter before coming to his booth with a small pad and pen in hand.

  “Get ya somethin’?” She asked, her tone spoke of long hours and poor pay- A career waitress in every sense of the word.

  “Uh. Sure,” Alex said, realizing he hadn’t eaten since a business dinner over twenty hours ago. “You have anything I can get quickly? I have an appointment in a little while.” He smiled kindly at the waitress.

  “Let me see what I can do,” She smiled back, naturally thankful for a bit of kindness. She returned about five minutes later with a grilled cheese and a cup of tomato soup.

  “The fastest I could manage,” she said as she set the food down on the table.

  “Oh no, it’s perfect. Thank you.” Alex said as he reached for his spoon.

  “Can I get some damned service!” An older man, obviously bitter at the rest of world for his miserable life, was yelling from the front of the diner angry that someone got their food before him. Alex never saw the point of treating someone that way. His grandfather had taught him that entitled individuals were a waste of space and easily manipulated. Alex thought about all the ways he could break this guy down. Those thoughts were cut short because he had other things to worry about. Still, it took a lot of willpower to refrain from going through the normal routine of telling this guy to get a new set of manners, or better yet a new hairpiece since Alex was pretty certain his current one had had enough mileage to be retired. Alex restrained himself. The waitress rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. Alex smiled at her knowingly as she made her way to the older man’s table. The old man looked at Alex disdainfully as if to say “You got nerve boy” Alex saved him the trouble and let some of his power through the limiter and lit his eyes ablaze in the man’s direction. Alex recovered quickly and noticed the man was staring pretty intently at his empty plate making every attempt to avoid Alex’s gaze. “You were right grandpa, nearly all entitled individuals are cowards at heart.” He thought to himself. Content with the mental game he put the older man through, Alex lowered his head to eat as he thought about his situation. He tested the soup’s temperature.

  “Cold.” Poor woman probably doesn’t even know. He placed his finger on the side of the bowl and concentrated. The soup came to a slow bubble.

  “That’s better,” he said. He kept a careful eye on everyone who came into the diner and watched who he could as they passed by the windows.

  For some reason, his mind wandered to his childhood of growing up in the woods of Vermont. He had been raised by his grandfather after his family abandoned him when they found out he was…different. Alex’s hands had burst into flame during a fistfight with a bully of a cousin at a family barbecue. He had severely burnt the boy, and that was all that it took. His family shunned him, even allowed scientists to take him for studies at a local medical research facility. He was there for about a month.

  He was released when the occurrence couldn’t be reproduced. In fact, whatever it was that he di
d in the first place left absolutely no physical or scientific evidence. It all came down to the insane sounding ramblings of his parents claiming their son’s hands lit on fire but left no other burn evidence aside from the burnt cousin. His parents were called liars, and he was never treated the same. Shortly after, he was dropped a block from an orphanage with his parent’s car screaming out of sight. He was 10 years old. Alex knew then that life wasn’t fair. He spent three miserable days in a building posing as an orphanage. His grandfather came to the run-down building on the third day. He presented the proper paperwork and was uncaringly given the boy with a curt “Good luck.”

  The ride to his grandfather’s house had been a long and silent one. Alex kept one eye on the man claiming to be his grandfather and the other on the lush green, undeveloped countryside dotted with small farms and farmer’s markets. Alex had only heard mention of this man in passing through conversations amongst his parents. Apparently, he was some kind of a recluse and nobody knew how old he was and a few other references to the word “freak.” Alex remembered his first impressions of his grandfather quite vividly, long gray hair tied back, light tan leathery looking skin and weight to his presence that was undeniable even to a 10-year-old. They twisted and turned through forests of every green imaginable and indescribably bad roads until they finally slowed to a stop at the edge of a very long driveway. The gravel drive crunched noisily under the tires. At the opposite end of the journey sat a modest house without visible means of power or communication.