Final Solstice

by David Sakmyster

  Every druid was bathed in emerald energy, and their eyes glowed like miniature green suns.

  And Palavar stood tall, absorbing that power.

  His staff healed and reformed and then he swung it in a huge 360-degree arc and it was as if he had reached out an impossible distance and struck the eye of each cyclone in turn.

  One by one they shattered and exploded, fizzled and died out, scattering into a wind that went nowhere.

  And then he collapsed, along with the others.

  Solomon alone stood in the circle looking upon them all, and then turning his attention to Mason, seeing his chest rise and fall slowly although his eyes were closed.

  Ever so slowly, Solomon moved closer and reached for the staff in Palavar’s grasp. Touched just the edge of it before it was snatched away.

  Palavar sat up and gave him a sneer full of fury and malice, and then slapped him with the back of his hand so hard the lights went out for a long, long time.

  O O O

  “You were healed,” Solomon said as the images faded one last time. “And when you regained consciousness, you were far, far from Kansas.”

  “But … I still don’t remember how.”

  “In reality, he worked on you for three weeks. Keeping you drugged, sedated while he tinkered in your mind. Creating images like we’ve been doing here. Over and over, reinforcing memories that never were. Giving you a past you never had, writing over the real events of the past two years, just like you do when you record over existing songs on a cassette tape.”

  “But the initial ones were still there, somewhere.”

  Solomon nodded. “Palavar called a vote, and you were out. Too dangerous to be trusted, too powerful to be trained successfully.”

  “But if I had really done … that …” Mason pointed at the wall again. “Tried to sacrifice myself … Wasn’t that what they wanted me for?”

  “Yes and no.” Solomon sighed. “In the end, no one wanted to relive what had happened. We were too young for that sort of sacrifice. Nature … the energy our forefathers thought were gods … it didn’t want the blood of kids. Souls not developed enough yet maybe, or else it’s the free will factor that’s most important. And at that age, it’s just not there. In fact, it’s almost a sacrilege to attempt it. That’s what we discovered.”

  “So I was cast out.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t send you out without sufficient guarantees. He toned you down, so to speak. Made you much more mellow a fellow, if I might take verbal license.”

  “To stop me from what—more inadvertent tornadoes?”

  “Emotional states can be tricky. We don’t know what exactly causes such outbursts, but you are obviously deeply in tune with meteorological conditions.” His eyes twinkled. “And, some might even say, your forecasting ability is so uncannily good as to indicate that maybe you have a hand in making the weather rather than merely predicting it.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? After everything you’ve learned about yourself and others today?”

  Mason was silent, still absorbing it all; but like an over-soaked sponge, he had no room left for another drop of unreality. Instead, he looked around at the others, settling on Solomon, and brought the discussion back to ground. “And you remained with him?”

  “Palavar still wanted a pupil. Needed a successor. Apparently you can’t be an arch-druid without some apprentices in tow. Doesn’t look good on your resume.”

  Mason cocked his head. “And is Gabriel your … apprentice?”

  Solomon smiled. “Now we get to the good part.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your children.”

  Mason bristled. “What about them? Gabriel I understand. He’s cut from the same mold, with the same intentions, but Shelby … Why her?”

  “Because,” said Solomon, “they’re you’re children. Because sometimes it’s hereditary. And because of what happened on that Colorado highway when you weren’t there. The freak storm, Lauren’s accident …”

  “You think … it was Shelby? That she did what you and I had done as kids?”

  “Either her or Gabriel.” Solomon shrugged. “We’ll never know, but what I can tell you is that if one has it …”

  And then Mason remembered. The legends, the talk with Pamela about the most powerful shamans and magic users, always being …

  “Twins …”

  O O O

  Mason advanced on Solomon, fists clenched. “This is far enough. You’ve threatened my daughter, kidnapped her—and yes, cured her, but now I have to wonder. About Lauren, about the timing of her hemorrhage …”

  A restraining hand caught his shoulder, making him wince in almost debilitating agony. Victor had returned, and pulled him back, holding his arms in check. Not that it mattered, Mason was going nowhere.

  Solomon took his place at the cornerstone, near the head of the altar. “Don’t be alarmed. The time for sacrifice is not upon us yet. We have another day until the Solstice. Until the alignment and the reckoning will come. For more than two thousand years we druids have worked behind the scenes, guiding humanity, striving to allow it to coexist in a natural world where it had no right to belong.”

  “No right, according to whom?”

  “According to our weaknesses. Our genes. The only thing we have going for us is stubborn perseverance. We get knocked down by a volcano here, a tsunami there, hurricanes, earthquakes and firestorms, lightning and tornadoes. Brutal ice and persistent subzero temperatures or non-stop heat waves. And then the survivors get back up and we do it all again. Rebuild on the same shore or at the foot of the same volcano, expecting different results this time. Yes, it’s insanity, and that’s what humanity is. Certifiable. And yet …” Solomon looked around at the smiling faces. “We support them anyway. We do what we can, always from behind the scenes. It’s been our way for millennia. Never gaining credit, and sometimes rightfully so. For we haven’t always acted in the best interests of humanity. Sometimes, civilizations just had to go.”

  “And you’re saying you helped?”

  “We can’t claim complete credit, but yes. The Mayans. The Aztecs. Egypt even, going farther back. It once thrived in a lush climate at the banks of the Nile, with steady rainfall and abundant crops. Easy enough to shift them out of such a zone, to bring the drought, spoil the earth and poison the air. Civilizations like theirs had run their course, and much like today, the world’s so called great powers have run amok, unchecked in their greed. They have become too arrogant, believing themselves above nature. The earth isn’t their plaything.”

  Sounding just like Gabriel. No wonder he’s found a kindred spirit. “And so you’re going to knock them back down to size?”

  “More or less. It’s past time, and would have happened years ago if not for … divergent feelings on the matter from some of our members. Those with much less daring visions.”

  “Palavar?” Solomon asked. “Is that what happened?” A coup …

  “He was old,” Solomon said. “And had nothing left to give to the cause but his blood and his … staff.” Smiling, he held up the arch-druid’s weapon of choice.

  “He didn’t think big enough, content to mold the impressionable young minds with Hollywood drivel and Twitter feeds and other social media claptrap. As if that would stop the juggernaut of devastation, deforestation, and resource destruction the world over.”

  “I thought all that global warming stuff was political bullshit to you?”

  Solomon shrugged. “True, in the overall scheme of things, Nature will win out and man will go the way of countless other extinct species, but I would be negligent in my role as caretaker if I didn’t do all in my power to … hasten things along. Wipe the slate clean, if you will.”

  “And what is it this time? Let loose the tornadoes and the hail, your own unique dogs of war?”

  “Think bigger. As you’ve seen in the past few weeks, it’s already begun. We’ve softened up the world, set the primer,
so to speak, with tsunamis and hurricanes, earthquakes and violent storms. The sacrifices have been taken and the stage is set for more. Appetites have been stoked, and the main course is ready.”

  Now the images formed, the earth in the air over the altar, with twelve red spheres circling it, getting in alignment.…

  Just like the standing stones.

  Mason saw it now. “So we are here to finish the job, and you think these satellites will direct what … your energies and powers?”

  Solomon smiled. “I don’t think. I know what they can do. Magic, sorcery … it’s all indistinguishable from advanced technology—or from bits and bytes. Ones and zeroes. We upload the code in the same way we’d chant over a geographical position, the same way the druids of old focused their efforts on a cloud or mountaintop, or how Genghis Khan sent storms upon the enemy. Only now, with this technology and our strongest magic, we can do it on a global scale.”

  “Eat your heart out, Genghis.” Mason motioned with his chin to the altar. “And am I to be the sacrifice again?”

  Still smiling, Solomon said nothing.

  “I won’t do it willingly, not this time,” Mason said. “I’m not some five year-old kid anymore.”

  “No,” Solomon agreed. “Now you’re a husband. And a parent.”

  And there it is …

  Mason swallowed hard. “Shelby …”

  “And your dear wife. You were right of course.” Solomon waved his staff and the section over the right shoulder vanished, like a planetarium surface, creating an image of a familiar hospital room where nurses rushed in, and Lauren was there, convulsing in the bed as the monitor spiked out a warning in a high pitched alarm.

  “Lauren!”

  The image vanished, replaced by an airport lounge, where Gabriel and three men in black coats approached the arrival gate, zeroing in on Shelby, who had just deplaned, still with her headphones on, oblivious to her welcomers.

  The scene vanished, leaving Mason to lower his head in defeat.

  Solomon let out a sigh. “I think you’ll do the right thing. The only thing.”

  The others turned and began to file out of the room. Victor released Mason. Solomon followed him out. “You’ll have plenty of time to think about it when you are locked in here. One more day, Mason, and it will all be over. Do what you must, and your children, your wife—they’ll all be cared for, ushered into the next golden age of humanity. Down in our bunker in the lower levels, the members of Solstice I’ve handpicked … we will emerge and start again upon a world wiped clean of corruption, a world restored to natural order.”

  With that, he left and the door closed in, seamlessly blending with the night, and the cacophony of insects and the wind rose and sang as one as Mason fell to his knees and turned onto his back, staring up at the heartless constellations.

  Chapter 5

  He wasn’t sure when he finally found sleep, but it came and it tugged at his thoughts and his memories, and teased out dreams and recollections, swirling both into one tapestry that was indistinguishable as either.

  Sleep came, and like he had just boarded a subway train; the doors closed and whisked him to the next stop. Only this time, he wasn’t a passive passenger. He thought about Central Park, and the feeling was the same. This was no ordinary dream. It was controlled and lucid, and the more he focused, the more real it seemed until when those doors opened and he stepped out, he knew exactly where he’d be.

  Exactly the destination he expected.

  The hospital. A dimly lit hallway. Intensive Care sign on the walls. He walked briskly and directly, reading the names outside the doors. Passed a couple of nurses on the nightshift, but no one seemed to notice him.

  Am I really here? He wondered about it, but not too hard. He felt the connection was tenuous at best, and thinking too much on it would be like the moment you realize that you are dreaming, and promptly lose control and wake up.

  At the same time, he felt sure that he was here, if for no other reason than the Haitian had told him: Your spirit be walking mighty far, my guess is, by your bare feet and the twigs stuck between your toes. Mason just didn’t know how to control it, although he felt he was doing just fine now. As for other people, he had the sense that they didn’t see him, although they might if they looked just in the right light, or out of the corner of their eyes.

  He wasn’t about to test that theory though. Especially after he found Lauren’s room—and found that she wasn’t alone.

  He almost went in through the open door to throw his arms around her and hold her hand, but held back at the threshold. At first, it seemed she rested peacefully, her head bandaged, eyes closed, tubes up her nose, but something bothered him. Something about the chair by her bedside. The room was dark and the shadows thicker on that side, but still … he saw the chair was empty one moment, and occupied the next. Like an image in a novelty lenticular photograph, the old man in the dark coat was there one moment, gone the next.

  Mason focused and found the angle where the man remained. He seemed bored, like he was on guard, performing a menial function. A black cane-staff rested against the chair, untouched as his hands were occupied, a bag of peanuts in one as he greedily stuffed handfuls in his mouth, chewing with loose dentures in a salt-riddled mouth.

  Mason backed out slowly after checking on Lauren once more, seeing the monitors, watching the rising and falling of her chest.

  Sleep well, and dream of pleasant days ahead. When this is all behind us.

  He backed up, about to turn the corner—

  When the man in the chair snapped his head around. Eyes widened and found him and he stood in a cascade of falling peanuts and cracked shells.

  He opened his mouth, dribbling crumbs, and reached for his staff.

  Mason felt a wave of power and energy rippling from the aged man, far in excess of the impression he gave off. And Mason had no intention of feeling anything further, already desperately sure he had given away everything.

  He closed his eyes and stepped back one more step—into the waiting train. The doors slammed shut just as the snarling, twisted old features rushed toward him, and he was gone.

  O O O

  Not back to Solstice. Not yet. Not if he could still maintain this dream-astral-projection state. Whatever it was, he had to check on Shelby. For this feat, however, it was a little more difficult than he anticipated. Not only did logic and reason slip and threaten to pull him from the dream. How is this happening, how can this be real? Those questions were put aside in favor of impressions about her location, about finding Gabriel.

  His mind drifted, his thoughts roamed from the airport to the surrounding areas, and settled on a speeding black limo. Watching from a hawk’s eye view, Mason wasn’t sure if this was real time, or had happened already. He followed it, zooming in, moving closer, dropping.… Until it parked at a large abandoned lot in front of a warehouse with broken windows and rusted gutters.

  Mason paused, and as if waiting for assurance, storm clouds suddenly rolled in. They converged from east and west like opposing vanguards of their respective armies. Slowing, the clouds finally twisted and churned together directly over the warehouse.

  She’s in there, Mason thought. And she’s not the only one.

  He forced himself down, in through the roof, and confirmed that time here was far from linear. He settled through the superstructure and found himself on a metal walkway over the warehouse floor. Shelby sat directly below, and Mason could see she had her wrists tied behind her back. The warehouse itself was a wide open space, a few pillars supporting a secondary level of metal frames and shelves. Otherwise, the ground floor was just dust and debris, some crates and empty barrels in a corner. Bird nests and broken windows decorated the upper level.

  Victor stood in the background, his bulky frame almost blocking out that of the limo driver’s. Two other well-dressed associates from Solstice were there, discussing plans with each other. Nexus and Remulus: Mason recalled meeting them in the grove the
first day, and now had the impression they were far more than they seemed. Apart from the muscle and the added security, there was one other person in the large space.

  Gabriel.

  He faced Shelby, holding his staff. His bald head glinted in the overhead lights that flickered and pulsed. Shelby’s hair lifted and flew in front of her face and the other two men turned and approached.

  Mason debated.… Could he get down there and do something? Every cell in his body screamed that he should be down there helping his daughter, but at the same time he knew it would do no good. He wasn’t strong enough. Just a fledgling with this power, unsure of his wings or how to use them, much less how far they could take him. And he had the sense that the display down there—and the drama show up in the skies—was just that. A show. A reaction of the two of them together.

  How much did Shelby know, Mason wondered, about herself and her abilities? Obviously it was partly genetic, partly learned. Gabriel had extensive training from a master druid. Shelby … he guessed her background was more trial, error and spontaneity.

  Whatever was going on down there, Gabriel seemed to be winning. With his free hand, he warded off Victor and the driver as if to say I’ve got this. And he did. Soon, Shelby tired, the breeze died and she lowered her head, hair falling over her eyes.

  Gabriel muttered something that carried through the acoustics, “Sleep and behave. Or we’ll be forced to knock you out.” Then he turned away and took his cell phone out and started to make a call.

  Seeing a chance, Mason thought of something. Just a gesture, but he had to let her know that there was hope, and to hang on.

  He thought hard and focused … On a crack in the masonry between her feet, right where she was looking …

  Can I do this? He thought it even as he learned the answer. Felt a power source nearby—whether it was in the air itself, or from the churning convection event in the sky above, he wasn’t sure. Or maybe it was from Gabriel and Shelby themselves—there was something he plugged into like an outlet, and it gave just enough current to fuel his thoughts.

  He sensed the dirt and debris just through the crack, deep down under the masonry slab. The old earth lying dormant. And he teased it, nourished it with a tender touch of energy, found and molded a kernel of biological material. Conditioned it, then set it free.