by Jacob Whaler
Yarah jumps out from the shadows through the emergency entrance. A white cloak of rectangular pixels shimmers around her as she floats over the hot concrete and searches for the cloaking box.
It diverts Ryzaard’s attention for a split second.
The blue sphere fades and Matt breaks free. As he drops to his knees in pain, jagged lightning shoots at Yarah from Ryzaard’s necklace of Stones, tearing deep pockmarks in the metal side of the building. Small bits of energy break through Yarah’s white armor and open tiny holes in her skin like hot pokers in wax.
Her screams echo through the dark night of the Manhattan canyon where they stand.
“Yarah!” Matt says. “Again!” His body drops to the pavement.
She immediately understands. In the time that it takes her to blink, she jumps into Matt’s mind, drops down through multiple levels and finds the core.
Looking out of Matt’s eyes and feeling the intense pain of burning skin, she sees the Stone tightly gripped in his blue fingers.
It becomes her own.
Equal portions of power and joy surge through the muscles and nerves of her small body. She bounds up the steps to confront Ryzaard.
Paying no attention to her, Ryzaard vanishes and reappears five meters away standing over Matt. “I don’t need to kill you to beat you.” He kicks the limp body and gets no response. With outstretched hands, he bends down and picks Matt up.
“Put him down.” Yarah stands a few meters away, staring up at him.
Ryzaard tries hard to suppress the urge to laugh and ends up with a half-smirk. “Feel free to attack me.” A protective layer of blue energy forms around his body.
Matt is completely exposed.
Yarah’s hands go up to her waist. “I warned you.” Wiping the fear and anxiety out of her mind, all that’s left is pure clarity.
In her mind, Ryzaard’s body stands out from the background around him.
As her eyes swing past him, she can see the drops of salt-laden water forming on his forehead. The blue film of energy enveloping him vibrates with a frequency that leaves gaping holes the size of molecules in its coverage.
It’s all like a simple mathematical problem.
And the solution cries out to her.
With a stony face, Yarah lifts her hands and looks down at her palms. Index fingers pointing at Ryzaard, she stretches out her arms and draws a large square in the night air. An exquisite fabric woven of multicolored threads of energy materializes. She reaches forward, takes it in her hands and wraps it around her shoulders, as she had before, like a blanket. It seals around her body.
Her eyes stare back at Ryzaard.
The challenge is clear. Her voice plays on high volume in his mind.
Do you dare attack me?
“Very beautiful,” he says. “But this is no fairy tale.” Gritting his teeth, his eyes flash above her. A large sphere of churning blue plasma emerges from the darkness and hangs directly over her head. It blurs and drops down. The instant it touches the multicolored fibers of Yarah’s blanket, the sphere explodes in a white-hot flash. Windows within a hundred meter radius above them shatter, and the fragments shower down on the street like crystal rain. The pavement below them melts away, leaving the man and girl suspended in air over a massive crater in the street.
Ryzaard’s eyes focus on Matt, still lying in the old man’s arms like a limp dishrag. An identical protective skin of multi-chromatic fibers adheres to his body. Tiny explosions dance along Ryzaard’s arms where he touches Matt. He draws his hands back in pain.
Matt’s body floats away behind Yarah before Ryzaard can react.
Yarah senses the anger building in the old man.
A barrage of orange bars shoots out of the Stones on Ryzaard’s chest like machine gun fire. They rake across Yarah’s body for a full minute, never penetrating the protective energy blanket around her.
Throughout the onslaught, Yarah stands calmly with her arms crossed over her chest. A grin threatens to overtake her face. She can read the thoughts going through the old man’s mind.
How can a small girl with one Stone be so powerful?
As the last of the high-energy bombardment dissipates against the multicolored threads, Yarah brings her palms together in the middle of her chest and executes a shallow bow. Her eyes drift above her.
Ryzaard follows with his gaze.
A massive cloud of energy in the shape of a golden dragon bears directly down on Ryzaard. He shoots bolts of lightning to stop it, but the dragon deftly dodges the shots with a quick twist and barrels into Ryzaard’s chest with its jaws open.
Sparks explode as Ryzaard is knocked backward down the street for thirty meters. His body drops to the pavement, still intact and enveloped in the blue energy field, but otherwise motionless. Wisps of smoke rise from his black silk pajamas.
Yarah shoots two more cannonballs of white plasma in a long arc up into the air and squarely down on Ryzaard’s chest. His body jumps up a foot and falls back to the pavement.
She lowers Matt to the street and drops into a kneeling position at his side. Her mind quickly finds Ryzaard, and she enters to find his defenses still intact. Like a rat running a maze, she works through the barriers until she’s standing in the center of his mind on an open plain.
Razor-sharp mountains rise above the horizon.
Resisting the temptation to explore further, she drops down and begins an inventory of his recent memory, picking up where she left off less than an hour before. It lasts for a full minute before she senses the shift in his mental state.
Ryzaard is waking up.
Jumping back out, Yarah stands on her feet and walks to the stairs leading down to the emergency exit. The concrete has congealed enough for her to stand on its warm surface. She scours it for the cloaking box, but it’s nowhere in sight. With no alternative, she backs up and fires a broad beam of red energy from her Stone. The concrete instantly liquefies again. She fires one more time, and it vaporizes in a flash of steam.
The small box lies at the bottom. She floats down and picks it up, still cool to the touch. Then she jumps back to Matt’s side, drops down beside him and releases his Stone back to him.
He opens his eyes and struggles for breath. After a few seconds, he raises himself up on his elbows. “Where’s Ryzaard?”
Yarah points at the smoldering pile down the street. “We don’t have much time. He’ll be awake soon.”
“Amazing. You’ll have to teach me how to do that someday.” Matt stands on his feet with the Stone in his hand. After a deep inhale and exhale, he does a quick internal body scan and heals some minor injuries.
“Found this.” Yarah hands him the cloaking box.
“Good job. Let’s go.” Matt flicks open the lid, and their Stones turn into dark rocks. “To Alexa.”
Yarah nods. They run across the street and down an alley.
The dark sky is just beginning to turn pink around the eastern edge.
CHAPTER 47
Inside the MX Global building, a lone set of footsteps moves up the spiral staircase. The sound echoes through open spaces on either side. Ryzaard could have just jumped up to the top, but he wants the time to think. Outside, it’s early morning. Half the sky is pale pink. The other half is washed in a colorless purple.
Head still spinning from what the little girl did to him, Ryzaard goes over the last hour in detail. It’s embarrassing. An eight-year-old bested him in combat, leaving him wounded and beaten.
And she did it twice, with only one Stone.
Impossible.
No one could miss the childlike joy and abandon with which the little girl wielded her power. The dragon was a nice touch, lifted right out of a child’s fairy tale.
How had Matt found such a prodigy?
Ryzaard finds himself wishing he had found her first.
Matt had taught her well. Unless Ryzaard can stop her, she and Matt will be a formidable adversary. They must be eliminated before they inflict further damage to
his perfect plans.
He had never been in any real danger of death. Over the past months, Ryzaard had discovered that it’s difficult for one Stone Holder to kill another in combat using only the Stones. They protect their Holder in just such a situation. To hurt a Stone Holder requires stealth and surprise. Neither will be easy with Matt and the little girl, especially because of her natural telepathic powers.
And there is the matter of the small stone box.
Thinking back on it, Ryzaard remembers seeing Matt and the girl holding it. It’s the only explanation for the way his own Stones had been deactivated. They must have found a way to extend its effect outside of the box. It will require extra vigilance in dealing with them in the future.
And that is the real lesson Ryzaard has learned.
He can no longer afford to ignore Matt.
CHAPTER 48
They spend the next hour hiding out in Manhattan, collecting gear, making plans.
“Let’s hurry.” Matt stares up at the building. “After we get Alexa, we have to find Jessica. No telling what Jhata’s doing to her.”
“Alexa’s on the seventh floor.” Yarah points up at a window. “Right there. Ryzaard has tracking bugs scattered around her room. And on her. I saw it while I was inside his head. If we talk to her, he’ll know about it.”
“We don’t need to talk. Just grab her and jump to Jhata’s world.” He runs his finger along his jax. “I should be able to get us past security and into her room with this.”
“How can we trust her?”
“We can’t,” Matt says. “That’s exactly the point.”
Yarah looks confused. “Then why take her with us?”
“To keep her from helping Ryzaard.” Matt moves away from the front door of the hotel. “Come on. Let’s go. I prefer the backdoor entrance.”
They walk around the building and down a deserted alley. Dust and garbage litters the ground. There are no service doors. The lowest window is on the second floor. From where they stand, it looks dark inside.
Matt points up. “Looks like one of the rooms that nobody wants. Just the way I like it.” He puts his backpack on the ground and takes out a long, thin tube. Then he finds a roll of fishing line and a small wad of putty. “It’s an old trick my dad taught me.” He ties the fishing line around a ball of putty and puts it in the tube, along with several more yards of line. Bringing the tube up to his mouth, he blows a short, quick breath.
The ball of putty flattens out against the window on the second floor. The fishing line hangs down like a long thread of spider silk. Matt gets the loose end and attaches it to his jax.
“Watch this.” Matt points up at the window. “You don’t always need a Stone to perform magic.”
Holding the jax in one hand, his fingers play along its side. It flashes green. The window shatters above them, raining down fragments of broken glass.
Yarah’s mouth drops open. “How did you do that?”
“Harmonics,” Matt says. “And a little-known jax add-on only available on black-market Mesh-sites.”
He pulls a piece of metal out of his backpack the size of his index finger. When he touches the end, four jagged-toothed prongs snap out in the shape of a grappling hook. Rummaging again in a pocket of the backpack, he takes out a cord and ties one end to the hook. Then he swings it up to the window until it catches on the ledge. He pulls hard to make sure it holds.
“I’ll go up first. Just wait here.”
Matt puts on a pair of gloves, yanks on the rope again, and pulls himself up its length, hand over hand, until he grabs the edge of the window and swings his body inside. He disappears for a few seconds, and then his head reappears.
“Looks good.” He ties a quick loop in the rope and feeds it down to Yarah. “Your turn. Put this under your arms.”
Yarah slips it over her head and arms and looks up. “Ready.”
Matt pulls her up and into the room. It feels good to do some old-fashioned breaking and entering.
“Only five more floors to go,” he says.
They exit the room, walk down the deserted hallway and stand in front of the elevator. It doesn’t take long for the doors to open.
“Identify,” a syn-voice says.
Without speaking, Matt lifts his jax and brushes his finger on the side.
“Welcome Mr. Hansen,” says the voice.
They enter, and the doors close behind them. A low hum vibrates as the elevator begins a gentle climb. It stops, and the doors part to let them out.
“Should be the seventh floor if my stolen ID is correct.” Matt walks into the hall. “Can you find the room?”
Yarah nods. “We’re close.”
“Be careful.”
They walk to the end of the hall where it ends in a T. “This way.” Yarah moves halfway to the end and stops in front of a door. “Right here.”
“Good work,” Matt says. “Now for the tricky part.” Dropping to his knees, he runs his jax along the edge of the wall.
Before he finishes, the door flies open.
Alexa stares down at Matt and Yarah, a half-smile on her face. “I saw you on the security monitor. Come in before the doorman gets suspicious and decides to investigate.” The smell on her breath tells them she’s already half-drunk.
Matt picks up his backpack and follows Yarah inside.
“So why the surprise visit?” Alexa walks back to a sofa, flops down and puts her feet up. A half-empty bottle of champagne stands within easy reach.
Matt holds up his jax and scans the room. “This place is crawling with surveillance beetles.” He walks quickly to a black and white photograph of a farmer and his wife hanging on the wall. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out a small knife and pushes a button on the end. The blade jumps out, and he slips the point under the eye of the man. With a twist, he flips it off and lets it drop into the palm of his hand. “Ryzaard’s keeping his eye on you.” He lets the tiny camera drop to the floor and slams his foot down on it.
“He promised to stay away.” Alexa reaches for the bottle and takes a drink. “I scanned the room myself and didn’t find anything.”
“There’s more.” Matt walks close to Alexa and stands over her. His fingers drop down to her scalp. “Hold still.” He brings the blade up past her face, parts the hair, and gently lifts up a tiny black dot. “Listening tick.” He shows it to Alexa, and then drops it on the glass table next to her. Placing the tip of his knife on it, he pushes. It pops and splits apart.
“I had no idea.” Alexa raises her head and looks around the room, as if speaking directly to Ryzaard. “So you’ve already broken your word. I’m not surprised.”
Matt scans the room and pops another small dot that looks like a speck of dust off the wall. “What did you expect?”
“He’s a bad man.” Yarah walks close and looks down at Alexa with very serious brown eyes. “He’s not going to keep his promises.” She swallows hard. “After he gets what he wants, he’s going to kill you.”
“And how does one so small know so much?” Alexa’s eyebrows rise.
“I’ve been inside his head.”
“Well,” Alexa says. “How can I argue with that? I don’t have the same telepathic ability you’ve been blessed with.” There is more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Matt finds another bug and crushes it between his fingernails. “Come with us. At least you’ll have a fighting chance.”
“Of what?”
“Staying alive,” Matt says. “Let’s go.” He turns and nods at Yarah, and then walks back across the room to Alexa.
“And if I say no?”
Matt picks up his backpack and swings it over one shoulder. His right hand goes into his pocket. “You won’t.” Kneeling down, the fingers of his left hand reach out for Alexa’s shoulder. Yarah joins him and lightly rests her fingers on his back.
“It’s better this way.” Yarah takes a small box out of her pocket and holds it with the lid open.
“What do you me
an?” She looks from Yarah to Matt. A realization suddenly dawns on her. “Where are you suggesting we go? Back to the mountains?”
They all hear the heavy sound of footsteps running down the hall, reaching the end of the corner and turning toward them. Steel rifles bang on carbonized plastic armor. Something heavy drops to the floor just outside the door.
Matt shakes his head. “Of course not.”
“Then where?”
Yarah snaps the lid of the box shut and closes her eyes. As the air around them flashes white, Matt keeps his eyes focused on the door. A large circle opens up in its center and explodes orange fire toward them.
They never feel its touch.
CHAPTER 49
Jhata stares down at the crystal cube a little bigger than her head. Thin mechanical arms with a hundred delicate fingers like the bristles on a brush pull back from the white mist that fills the cube. She gently breathes on it, and the mist clears.
A single jewel, shaped like a tiny animal claw, floats in an ion field. Sky-blue and shot through with white veins, it slowly rotates like a miniature planet and is no bigger than a pearl.
An object of exquisite beauty.
This one is the master control unit. With few modifications, a similar, though inferior, device can be quickly manufactured for the masses, grown like a crystal from a chemical soup inside one of Jhata’s cubes. All that is needed to run the process is seawater. The protons, neutrons and electrons of the hydrogen and oxygen atoms, along with a few other trace minerals, are broken down into more fundamental particles and reassembled into a tough metal alloy. The result is an inert substance not appearing on any periodic chart. The technology does not yet exist among the fledgling human race to detect, let alone analyze, this new type of matter.
And that is as it should be.
Jhata picks up the tiny implant between her thumb and index finger. Holding it to the light, the delicate white veins give it a mystical quality.
Using the jax device left by Ryzaard, Jhata has designed the implant to automatically connect to the Earth’s primitive Mesh network. The connection opens a direct link to the recipient’s mind. To anyone who has not experienced such a link, it will be like a new drug, explosive and mind-blowing.