The thunderous boom shook the earth as it crashed. Arianna remained on the ground clutching her head and with her knees tucked to her chest and her heart lodged in her throat. Desmond. All she could think of was Desmond. Had he been hurt? She opened her eyes and looked about, but all she saw was a fuzzy cloud before her. The impact of whatever the hell had blasted their way had kicked up dirt and spindly spruce needles in a plume of dust. “Desmond! I can’t see you!” Desmond did not answer and her pulse began to sprint. “Desmond, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he said finally. His voice sounded muffled, distant, but Arianna did not care where he was or how he sounded, just that she could hear him, that he was unharmed. “Were you hurt?” he asked and was suddenly beside her.
“Holy shit!” she heard herself say in a trembling voice. “What the hell was that?” She could see Desmond’s solid form in front of her; see his silhouette, a dark shape against the hazy cloud that hung all around them. She scrambled to her feet and strained her eyes against it. When it finally settled, she saw him, saw the brilliant aquamarine color of eyes and felt her heart swell. She felt his touch. His knuckles brushed down her cheek and stopped at her jawline. “What just happened?” she asked and could not keep the tremor from her voice. The smoky fog had lifted and she noticed that a good-sized crater had been carved into the forest floor, scoring it as if a mini-meteorite had just touched down. “Was it a meteorite?”
Dane sprang to his feet agilely and howled with laughter.
“What the hell is so funny?” Arianna asked incredulously.
“Pay him no mind,” Desmond cupped her face and turned it so that she looked at him. “That was not a meteorite,” he said.
“How can you be so sure? I mean did you see that thing? It was, I don’t know, a fireball or something.”
“I saw it, and I’ve seen others like it before,” he said cautiously.
“What?” she asked and could not hide the shock in her tone. “Seen them before? Are you kidding me?”
“No I am not kidding,” he assured her.
“Then what the hell was that thing if it wasn’t a meteorite?”
“Energy,” Beth’s voice answered before Desmond could, her voice echoing through the small clearing.
“Energy?”
“Energy,” Beth said with finality.
“Oh, well that explains everything!” Arianna huffed sarcastically. “Thanks for clearing that up for me. Now that I know I was almost a squashed blob in that crater by a ball of energy, I feel all better.”
“Arianna, calm down,” Desmond said in his deep, lulling voice. He placed his hands on her shoulders and allowed them to slide down the length of lean muscles there until resting at her wrists.
“What Beth means is it is energy created by our kind. The forest surrounding this house is a training area of sorts. Seventeen million acres of forest that is never surveyed simultaneously has become an area for drills and exercises,” Jason said.
“Wh-what?” Arianna asked and struggled to comprehend what her ears had heard.
“Not all of us know how to channel our powers and use them as easily as you did when they first appeared,” Dane said without the slightest trace of arrogance. “Most of us struggle. That’s where Leo, Ramiel and Sorath come in. They help the younger ones direct and control their energy.”
“Who?” Arianna asked.
“I guess you could call Leo, Ramiel and Sorath trainers,” Dane answered.
“And that glowing ball that flew by, that was directed and controlled?” she asked heatedly.
“No. That was part of a very steep learning curve,” he said and flashed a smile.
As Arianna’s brain searched for a witty comeback, movement in her peripheral vision demanded her attention. Wide leaves shivered to her left, almost undetectably, but she sensed someone there, someone like them.
“We’re not alone,” she said as a form slid from the concealment of the trees.
A man with mocha-colored skin, trim and lean, materialized from the shadows looking like a mythical warrior. Each step he took was deliberate, his stride lithe and graceful.
“Ramiel, good to see you,” Jason said.
“Jason,” Ramiel’s voice was rich and smooth. He wore camouflage cargo pants, thick military boots and a fitted, long-sleeve T-shirt. His frame was fit, his appearance neat. “It is her,” Ramiel said, his voice a raspy whisper. “It is the Sola.”
His words raised the fine hairs of Arianna’s body, as did the emergence of roughly a dozen people from the surrounding woodland. Each of them moved toward her, stopping just a few feet from her, then knelt.
“Uh, Desmond?” Arianna whispered, but he did not respond. His eyes were fixed on the man approaching. His gait was slower and less fluid that that of the others who now bowed before her.
The sun had begun its majestic ascent from the horizon, rising regally, pushing back sapphire sky with breadths of lavender and gold. Gilded rods pierced the leaf-covered awning of the forest and haloed the man who approached. His hair was long and snow-white and draped around his shoulders. Pale-blue eyes, almost translucent in their clarity and paler than any Arianna had ever seen, stared straight at her.
“Sola,” the man’s warm voice flowed from his lips like heated honey. He nodded deferentially and turned his palm upward, extending his hand to her.
Arianna wasn’t sure what to do. Did he want her to slap his hand and “give him five?” Did he want to shake her hand? Was there some cool, secret greeting that involved hand gestures she was unaware of? She simply did not know. Sweat began to bead her forehead and her palms slickened. She brought her right arm up over her chest and debated for a moment. She glanced at Desmond. He nodded at her encouragingly. What he was encouraging her to do, exactly, remained a mystery to her. But she raised her wrist and stuck out her hand. Little by little, one awkward inch at a time, she poked it forward toward the man with the long white hair.
Once her hand was in front of her, the man clasped it. She felt long fingers encircle her own, felt a pulse of pure warmth surge from them. He then touched his forehead to the top of her hand and spoke.
“Sola, we are honored by your presence. I am Briathos, one of the oldest defenders of our kind, member of the original seven of the High Council, thwarter of evil and keeper of the great omerta.”
Arianna bit her lower lip. Heat crept up from the collar of her shirt and licked at her cheeks. She wanted to shout “What’s going on here! Please tell me what is happening!” but knew instinctively that would be inappropriate. More than a dozen people were genuflecting, treating her as if she were royalty. But she wasn’t. She was just Arianna Rose.
“Uh, hello everyone,” she stammered. “How are you today?”
Shining eyes the color of ice over ocean water beamed up at her. Briathos smiled.
“Hey there, Briathos. I’m Arianna. Arianna Rose of Shady Pines trailer park, daughter of Cathy Rose and, uh, some guy she met nineteen years ago,” she mumbled and felt her cheeks blaze. “Yeah, that about sums it up. Oh, and I am the Sola, too.” She nodded uncomfortably. “Please, you don’t need to bow,” she begged.
A hearty chuckle rattled from deep in Briathos’ chest. He rose to his feet. “Welcome to our camp, Sola,” he boomed and everyone stood. He looked to Beth and her twin brothers. “Your friends have assured us of your allegiance to our cause, that you are not the Sola of the false prophecy. We had faith in you, but had to be sure before we allowed you to come here. Now that we know, now that we can feel what you are, our lives are yours and we will give them to protect you.”
Tears burned the back of Arianna’s eyelids. “Why, why would you do that?” she asked in a small voice that trembled.
“Because you are the Sola,” he said. His words curled like ribbons of silken truth, enveloping her heart and binding it with their integrity. “You are the savior of our kind.”
Her posture straightened and goose bumps arose. She tilted her head and gazed at t
he man before her. “I do not deserve your loyalty, but I am grateful for it.”
Briathos held her gaze as if trying to communicate a psychic message. She did not hear his words, but she felt something, felt an inexplicable devotion radiating from him.
“Come, please,” he said and gently pulled her. “You will stay here with us. Leo, Ramiel, Sorath,” he called. Ramiel joined, followed by Leo, a man true to his name with a mane of golden hair and bronze skin, and Sorath, a man with jet-black hair and wide, almond-shaped eyes. “They are at your disposal, as am I.”
“Thank you,” she fumbled.
“Will you join us in the main house?” he asked and she assumed he referred to the palatial log home they’d seen when they’d arrived.
“Oh I don’t want to impose,” she started.
“Nonsense. You are not an imposition. But if you prefer privacy, then I am afraid a cabin is all I have to offer you.”
It was as if he’d read her thoughts. She did want privacy. She needed time with just Desmond to process all that was happening. “A cabin will be fine. Thank you,” she said.
“Very well, then. But please, join us for meals. I insist,” Briathos persisted.
Arianna shrugged. Seeing no other choice, she accepted his offer. “Um, okay. Thank you,” was all she could come up with.
“Splendid,” he said with a grin and clapped his hands in front of him. “I will see to it that you are settled into a cabin and send someone for you before breakfast.”
A group of younger, serious looking warlocks approached and ushered her away from the clearing. Desmond walked beside her and slid his hand into hers. All the while her pulse raced and her temples pounded. Her mind reeled with question upon question. What was happening? Why had these people bowed to her as if she were royalty? Why had Agnon and the coven from Hallowed Hills believed her to be the harbinger of humanity’s apocalypse? Why were so many versions of her prophecy circulating among their kind? Too many questions multiplied in her head, one giving birth to the next, with each step she took.
The ground below her feet felt sodden, though puddles did not dot the path, just an odd mustard-colored moss that had become more prevalent on this new trail and an abundance of needle-shaped leaves. Desmond, as if intuiting her inner turmoil, gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Their fingers became entwined as they followed the young warriors and made their way to an area behind the log home where a series of cabins had been built.
After being given a tour of the tiny, one-bedroom space, Arianna watched as their chaperones left. As soon as the last of them left, Arianna turned to Desmond.
“Can you please explain to me what all of this is about?” she asked calmly. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why are these people treating me like I’m some sort of...I don’t know...goddess or something?”
“You are the Sola. In some ways, you are a goddess,” Desmond answered. His face was the embodiment of serenity as always. Arianna wondered how he managed to always remain so composed, so peaceful. Especially now when she felt so frustrated and confused she feared her head capable of popping right off her shoulders.
“I can’t keep track of all the assumptions about me, Desmond,” she said and felt her mind tilt violently. “I mean one minute I am supposed to destroy humanity and help others like us wreak havoc on the world and the next, people are bowing to me like I am something special. I just want to know what’s going on, what’s expected of me.”
“Nothing is expected of you. Just be you. You will know what to do when the time comes, just as you have until now,” he said. His voice was deep and comforting, a familiar sound that never failed to ease whatever burden she shouldered. He crossed the small room and stopped behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded them gently. His touch relaxed her further and she allowed her head to ease back against his solid chest. She turned slightly and rested her cheek over his heart, its steady drum a reassuring reminder of what little sanity remained in her life.
“So you have no idea either, huh,” she teased and circled his waist with both arms. “That’s not good.”
Desmond chuckled briefly. “No, I don’t. All I know is everything my father told me was a lie.”
Arianna tightened her grip on Desmond’s midsection. He groaned loudly. “Ah,” he complained.
“Jeez! I’m not that strong, Desmond,” she sassed. But when his hold on her lessened, she immediately knew he was not playing around. Something was wrong. She leaned back and looked at his face. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his mouth a hard line. “Desmond, are you okay?” she asked. He did not answer. His hands fell from her body and flew to his chest, the left side of his chest, clutching his heart. His posture was tormented, anguished. “Desmond, what is it?” She heard her asinine question, heard it as if it were another speaking from the end of a long tunnel. She did not know what to do. She did not know if ancient warlocks suffered heart attacks. Should she call 9-1-1? She doubted her cell phone worked in the middle of a forest. Her mind spun like wheels in mud, spinning and burrowing fruitlessly. “I’ll get help,” she said and turned for the door, fully prepared to scream at the top of her lungs until someone came, but a strong hand latched onto her wrist and held it firmly. She looked down at the sizable, familiar hand then spun. She saw Desmond, paler than usual, but no longer covering his heart.
“Don’t,” he said. His lips, ordinarily a healthy mauve, bore a bluish tint. “I’m fine.”
He did not look fine. He was able to speak, but his coloring was ashen. “You do not look well. Please, let me at least get Briathos.”
“No. That is not necessary. I am fine. But my father,” his voice trailed off.
“You father?” Arianna asked and wondered what the hell his father could possibly have to do with his episode.
“Something has happened to my father,” Desmond answered. “He is gone. I can feel it.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” she asked though a part of her knew exactly what he’d meant.
“He’s dead, Arianna.”
Dead? Agnon was dead? She thought she’d be happy to hear such news. Agnon had tried to have Desmond, his only son, killed; yet hearing he was gone chilled the blood in her veins.
“How can you be sure?” she questioned.
Desmond ran both hands through his hair then rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Our energy is interconnected. I am his son and I can feel his existence to an extent.”
“And you don’t feel that energy now?”
“Worse. I felt his energy snuffed.” Desmond gritted his teeth and spat the words with disdain. “I need to leave. I need to find out what happened.”
“Desmond, no! You cannot go. What if this is a trap?” she panicked as too many terrifying scenarios presented themselves at once.
“I must,” he said with finality that did not leave room for argument.
“Fine, but I’m going with you.”
“No!” Desmond’s eyes grew wild with concern. “No. I will go alone. If this is a trap, I will not risk harm coming to you. You will stay here. I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Wait, no. You can’t leave. You can’t leave me. Please don’t go. Don’t do this. This does not feel right to me,” she pleaded with him.
Color had returned to his complexion and his appearance resumed its usual splendidness. His jaw was set resolutely and his teal eyes glowed. “Arianna,” he said and placed a hand on her cheek. His thumb lightly stroked her cheekbone. “I cannot risk losing you.” His eyes seized hers, holding them as easily as his hands held her heart. “I will be back soon. I just need to see what happened. My father was not a being anyone would regard as easily tricked, much less easily killed.” Desmond smiled thinly, but his smile faltered at the corners before wilting altogether. “I am his son, and despite what he did, it is my duty to honor his life and find out how he died.”
“So you’re leaving me, I mean just like that,” she said in a trembling voice
. Her eyes burned, tears forming there. She blinked several times, but to no avail. A fat teardrop slid down her cheek.
Desmond cringed. She could see that her tears pained him. “You will have Beth and her brothers,” he assured her softly. “I am so sorry, my love.”
Sorrow was etched in his features and Arianna suddenly hated herself for causing him more grief than he was already feeling. She realized just how selfish she was being. Inhaling deeply, she willed herself to brighten. She forced the corners of her lips to tilt upward and focused on the magnificent man in front of her. She was so fortunate to have him. He was a gift, a gift she did not deserve. The least she could do was offer her support. “Go,” she said with cheeriness she did not feel. “Go on, get out of here. Hurry back though. Briathos is totally my type. There’s no telling what might happen if you leave us alone too long.” She winked and coaxed her strained smile into a broader one.
Desmond laughed. Her heart sang at the sound. “Briathos, huh?” he said and nodded thoughtfully. “I am leaving you with my competition. Stupid move on my part I guess.”
“Definitely,” she puckered her lips and bobbed her head.
“I love you Arianna Rose, do you know that?” His words were fraught with intensity and sincerity she never dreamed possible, not when intended for her, at least.
“And I love you,” she replied. His lips tipped up genuinely.
He took her in his arms and held her for a long moment then kissed her softly. “Good-bye, my love,” he said softly.
“See you soon,” she replied and refused to say good-bye; the word resonated with irrevocability, seemed too permanent.
The Arrival: Arianna Rose, #4 Page 6