Eye of the Tornado

by Kevin Domenic

  He kissed her gently, soaking in her warm embrace. "I am relieved to find you both well," he whispered, turning his eyes toward Sienna. "When I heard what Truce had planned, I feared the worst."

  "It will take more than the Vezulian Armada to break the will of our people," she said with a reassuring squeeze. "We have been treated as caged animals, but after surviving in those wretched dens beneath the desert for so many years, this may as well be a luxury cruise ship."

  "Better things are in store, my dear," he told her before he could stop himself. Of course, there was no need to be soft with Keilan. For Kyrosen women, she was as tough as they came, and that meant even he was afraid of her when something sparked her temper. Still, he'd intended to approach the topic more gently, not because he feared she'd turn her back on him, but because he wanted to properly explain everything that had gone into his decision.

  But he'd already perked her interest. "How can you be sure?"

  He took her hands into his and guided her back onto the blanket before sitting beside her. Her dark eyes glistened in the light of the lantern, and the flickering glow gave her skin a soft warmth that seemed to radiate with her love for him. Muert casually scanned the surrounding blankets before beginning, but no one even so much as blinked in his direction. He kept his voice low, anyway. No sense in taking unnecessary risks. "I was captured by members of the Aeden Alliance," he said slowly, watching her expression for any reaction. She had a round face, though she was not plump by any stretch of the imagination. Only a slight tightening of the lips indicated her dissatisfaction at that. "They treated me well, and I was able to keep an eye on Arus while I was there. A remarkable boy, Keilan. I truly do wish for you to meet him."

  "From what I've heard, he's little more than a zombie," she shrugged.

  Muert couldn't help but grin. "No longer. He has been freed from the control of that machine that Truce attached to him. He is his own person once again."

  "My, you certainly speak fondly of your captors." She grinned with a playfully sardonic look to her eyes. Even when speaking of the most serious of subjects, Keilan had a way of heating his cheeks.

  "I have been having many doubts of late, Keilan," he said, trying to find the right words to explain. "Thoughts and fears that haunt me day and night, dreams that tear me from my sleep with stomach-twisting terror. I keep seeing his face—the boy, Arus—I see his face, and I see the implant, and then . . ." He trailed off as he ran his fingers through Sienna's soft curls. "And then it is no longer Arus I see, but Sienna."

  Keilan nodded, her eyes conveying a shared fear. "It would be dishonest for me to say that I had never considered the same possibility. But we must surrender our fears for the good of our people. If Truce decides to use Sienna for—"

  Muert pursed his lips with a scornful frown. "You know very well that you would never stand by and allow anyone to perform such a terrible procedure on our daughter."

  It wasn't often that the woman wore her fright on her sleeve, but her face suddenly seemed to whiten as she looked upon the little girl beside them. "The will of the Kyrosen comes first," she whispered, sounding almost as though she was reminding herself as much as she was him.

  Muert leaned forward and whispered just as softly, "Why?"

  That earned him an open stare of astonishment. "What are you getting at, Muert?"

  Another causal look confirmed that no one was paying any attention to their discussion. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the words tumbled out. "The Aeden Alliance has offered to take us in. The three of us."

  Keilan's eyes neither widened nor thinned. She looked at him for a moment as though waiting for more, then shifted her gaze to Sienna. "And what did you tell them?"

  There was no avoiding the truth. He'd sooner tear his own tongue out than lie to Keilan. "I have accepted." Again, she gave no reaction. "My love, you must understand my intentions. The Truce family has turned the Kyrosen into monsters. We steal what supplies we need, betray anyone to gain an advantage, murder those who disagree with us, and now we've begun to use children for scientific and technological research. There is very little that separates us from the Vezulian Armada these days apart from our numbers. The Kyrosen are dying off because of the actions of Sartan Truce and his predecessors, and I cannot stand by and allow both you and Sienna to be subjected to—"

  Finally, she placed a soft hand over his mouth. "You are the love of my life, the sun in my sky, the light of my world, and my heart and soul. I will follow you wherever you go, my dear."

  Her words once again set his spirit alive with joy. "You will?"

  "Of course," she said, laughing at his disbelief. "I do not necessarily trust the Aeden Alliance, but I do trust you. And if you say they are noble in their intentions, then I will be at your side when you return to them."

  Muert threw his arms around her, a great weight lifting from his chest as he held her close. "We're going to be safe soon, Keilan. Sienna will be able to grow up in a peaceful and loving environment, I promise. I was thinking we could go to a nice little planet somewhere and settle down once this is all over, or maybe live on—"

  "One moment," she interrupted, placing a soft index finger on his lips. "Before we do anything, I ask that you allow me to speak with some of the others here. I will not betray your confidence, but I have a feeling that others would join us if they knew we were planning to flee from Truce's control. There was a good deal of dissent about joining with the Armada in the first place, and as it stands, only a handful of Sartan's most trusted men have really been allowed to participate in the operations of this ship. I'm certain there are more like us who are fed up with Truce, and I'd feel terrible if they were left behind while we fled to safety."

  Just as she endlessly trusted his judgment, so did he trust hers. "Very well, but please make haste. I do not know how long the Refuge will be in such close proximity, and I do want to ensure that both you and Sienna are safe as soon as possible."

  "Do not fret," she assured him. Her fingers ran across his cheek like cotton against granite. "I will move quickly and speak with subtlety. After all, it would do no good for us to plan an escape just to blow our own cover, now would it?"

  He leaned forward to kiss her again, her touch like a drug he was all too happy to call his addiction. Beside them, a soft groan rose as Sienna stirred, yawning as she stretched her arms. When her big blue eyes made contact with Muert's, they lit up with excitement. "Papa!" she squealed, leaping to her feet and slinging her arms around him. "Papa, you're alive! You've come home!"

  "Of course, my angel," he said, holding her close. "I've come home."

  Keilan joined in the hug, wrapping her arms around the two them as best as she could. Muert struggled to contain his emotions, but his eyes shimmered like dams about to burst. For a time, he'd feared that the only two things in his life that meant anything to him had been lost forever. But now, with his daughter and wife safe in his arms, he felt as though he had been given a second chance to live, a second chance to be a father, a second chance to forge a future. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he kissed Sienna on the forehead. His family was whole once again.

  Chapter 4

  The sky rippled with various hues of pink and blue, each wave blending with the next in a soup of vibrant colors. There were no stars, no sun, no moon. A sphere of purple, glowing around its edges with a blue nearly as intense as the light of Terranias' sun, radiated alone high above, its mass no less than a hundred times larger than the fullest moon. The air seemed both thick and thin at the same time, heavy yet somehow cool to the skin. Arus blinked again and again as he pushed himself to his feet, each time expecting his vision to reveal surroundings that were a bit more realistic to his mind. Nothing changed, no matter how many times he rubbed his eye or reset the implant's optical sensors. He had to be hallucinating. Or dreaming.

  When he finally tore his stare away from the swirling colors above, his breath caught once more. He stood on a platform of dirt less than fifty
paces in diameter, a haphazardly shaped island floating amidst the nothingness. Similar islands of different size and shape floated at various heights around him, their undersides like inverted jagged mountains as though these chunks of land had been torn from the surface of a much larger planet. Each island was bare; there was no grass or vegetation of any kind. From where he stood, Arus couldn't see how far the liquid sky reached below the platform of dirt, but he was willing to bet that there was no bottom to it. Is this . . . the Abyss?

  Kitreena's touch startled him as she took his mechanical hand into her own. She appeared just as disturbed as he knew he must've looked, face pale as her glassy eyes darted about. "Where are we?" she murmured, her voice echoing a thousand times over.

  Damien appeared to Arus' right, his lips compressed into a grim expression that was becoming all too common for him. "In all my years, I've never come across any place like this. I fear we may have found what lies beyond death's door."

  Arus shot him a nervous stare that begged him not to suggest such a thing. "We're not dead," he insisted, saying it just as much for himself as them. "I don't know where we are, but we're not dead."

  Vultrel rushed past them, growling as he ran. "There's got to be a way out of here!" He dropped to his knees at the edge of the island and leaned over the side. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed, looking back at them. "There's no end to this place!"

  A man's voice, gentle as a lamb, spoke from everywhere at once. "Your arrival has been anticipated since the creation of time. The events of this day have been destined for ages, a culmination of things that began long ago though have yet to occur. Kuldaan gnaws more fiercely than ever on the souls of mortals, and his efforts have trampled the lives of many. In the end, his efforts will prove futile against the Maker's Grand Design, but in the meantime, we must do what we can to save who can be saved. Arus, Vultrel, Damien, and Kitreena, I bid you welcome to the Fourth Dimension."

  Vultrel jumped away from the island's edge at the sound of the voice and scrambled back. A quick scan of the area by the implant failed to read any life signs aside from their own. Damien glanced at them before stepping forward, calling into the desolate sky. "Might I inquire who you are? Or where you are?"

  "I am called Mateo, but I'm afraid that my natural form is something incomprehensible to mortal minds. If you would like, I can take on an appearance that your eyes will understand."

  "Please do," Damien said politely. "We would very much like to see you."

  A glimmer of white appeared overhead, a glowing whirlwind that coalesced as it descended to the dirt platform several paces ahead of them. The light brightened and condensed into the shape of a man, naked save for elegant white pants that cut off above the knee where some sort of foreign script was embroidered in black around golden cuffs. He was not a large man by any means—Damien stood more than a head taller—but his body was sculpted to perfection, white streams of light shedding from his skin like thin tendrils of smoke. Simple brown hair topped his head, and his eyes glistened with a soothing blue that could've calmed a ferocious lion. "Grace and peace be with you," he said, smiling warmly at each of them individually.

  "Greetings," Damien responded, bowing graciously. "What is this place? And how do you know our names?"

  "And where's Kindel?" Vultrel added.

  Mateo's smile grew as he chuckled. "We have much to discuss," he said. "To put it simply, you are inside time itself, the driving force behind the Grand Design. I hope it is not too much of a shock for you to hear, but you are no longer in the universe you call your own."

  "Is this Heaven, then?" Vultrel asked him.

  "Neither Heaven nor the Abyss, the Fourth Dimension is a realm which exists outside of the rest of the Maker's creations. Time originates here, flowing in all directions to create what you call the past, present, and future. These concepts are much more malleable in the hands of the Maker, but mortal minds are limited in there perception of things. You are only capable of understanding time in its linear form, a passage of days and weeks and months and years. But to the Maker, time is a tool He uses to bring both past and future together to serve his ultimate purposes and further the development of His Grand Design. That is the best explanation I can give you."

  Kitreena wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I don't understand. How can a place be time?"

  Mateo walked to the left end of the island. "It is not something you will ever comprehend, I'm afraid. This isn't so much of a place as much as a . . . well, a time. You see, there are many things about the Maker and His creations that you'll never fully understand, concepts and plans that your minds were not meant to grasp. That is why so many people have turned away from the Maker over the ages; they cannot put their faith in something they cannot see. For whatever reason, many mortals seem to think that they should be able to understand everything about anything as though they are the most superior beings to ever live. Kindel is one such person. The truth of the matter is that they are not the most superior—far from it, actually—and no matter how many theories your scientists come up with or lies your ‘prophets' teach, there is only one Maker, and only He fully understands the workings of the Grand Design."

  Damien inclined his head in a slow nod. "And how did we get here?"

  "As you have already seen, Kindel Thorus, your brother and enemy, has harnessed the power of the Blade of Kaleo and begun to use it to serve his own evil purposes." Mateo said, his voice taking on a hint of sadness. "He thinks it will give him ultimate power with which to rule the universe. But the sword was created for the purposes of good, and prolonged exposure to the weapon will drive him over the edge of insanity. It has already begun, it seems, as his fit of rage on the mountains of Arynias drew in more of the sword's power than he could handle. As a result, the massive surge of energy tore a hole in the very fabric of time and space, opening the way to the Fourth Dimension. It is that tear that the four of you traveled through to get here."

  Damien frowned at Vultrel momentarily before continuing. "You said our arrival has been anticipated since time was created. What does that mean?"

  "The Maker works all events together according to His will," Mateo responded, facing them. "He knew precisely when Kindel Thorus was going to wield the Blade of Kaleo, and so he chose four mortals to retrieve the weapon. He has been preparing you since long before your births, planning the sequence of events that would mold you into who you are and teach you what you need to know. Each of you holds great strength and wisdom—though some of you use these gifts more honorably than others—and the Maker has ensured that the tools you need for success are at your disposal. Whether or not you choose to do what is right is up to you; the Maker will never compromise your freedom. But as long as Thorus holds it, the Blade of Kaleo may as well be in Kuldaan's hands, and it will only leave death and despair in its wake."

  Vultrel muttered something that Arus only half-heard, yet what he heard he wished he hadn't. The words "fairytale nonsense" were met with an instant stare from Mateo. Obviously the man—or whatever he was—had a better sense of hearing than Vultrel had expected.

  "You are free to do as you wish, Vultrel," he said, walking toward him. "The Maker has prepared you for the challenges that lie ahead, but you may run from them if you so desire. I must warn you, however; be prepared for a rough road."

  Vultrel's eyes burned, his hand clearly itching for his sword. "Is that a threat?"

  Mateo sighed and shook his head. "The Maker has your best interest in mind. Failure to follow His path for you will only lead you down a harsher path. It is not a threat, but a fact. It is the sad reality of a life without His guidance."

  Now Vultrel crossed his arms like a defiant child. "What if I don't want to follow that path? Is this Maker of yours so cruel that he would punish anyone who rejects his supposedly better ways?" Arus nearly put his head in his hands in embarrassment.

  "I'm afraid your perspective of things is quite backwards," Mateo said with a sad shake of his head. "It is not t
he Maker who is cruel, but Kuldaan. That treacherous demon has corrupted the former purity of the Maker's Grand Design, filling the hearts of men with selfishness, greed, lust, and arrogant pride. To follow the Maker is to shun these evil things. To turn your back on Him is to walk amongst them. There are two ways you can live your life. You can either accept His help, or walk alone. Why anyone would reject the guidance of a Maker who wants to care for you is beyond me, but then, I've never really understood mortals."

  "I can't imagine anyone would like the idea of being told how to live their lives," Vultrel snapped back. "You may not have a problem enslaving yourself to some deity that doesn't exist, but I won't allow myself to be brainwashed like that."

  Mateo eyed Vultrel for a moment, seemingly considering whether or not to continue the discussion. The young man's eyes may as well have been knives. Arus wanted to tell Vultrel to stop, to open his eyes, to let go of his anger, but if Mateo really was a direct servant of the Maker, than the quarrel was between the two of them, and Arus had no right to put himself in the middle of it. And if the silence coming from both Kitreena and Damien was any indication, they thought the same.

  Finally, Mateo turned and walked away, shimmering trails of light following his movements. "You have the sad misconception that it is the Maker's job to serve you," he said, his voice laced with what sounded like pity. "The Maker created all of us to serve Him. Whether you like it or not has no bearing on whether it is true. You can run from it, you can try to ignore it, push it away, and even denounce all knowledge of His existence, but none of it will change what is."

  Arus hadn't ever really believed in the Maker, but then he'd never really decided against the possibility, either. The stories had always seemed so fantastic that most assumed they couldn't have possibly been real. But after traveling halfway across the universe and meeting more new species than he could count, the fantastic no longer seemed so impossible. The existence of the Blade of Kaleo provided the strongest evidentiary support, if that was indeed what that sword was. But there was still so much that didn't make sense. "Mateo, if the Maker is all powerful and wiser than all of us, why doesn't He stop Kindel Himself? Why doesn't He abolish all evil? Why did He even create evil in the first place?"