Destiny

by Jason A. Cheek

  For a second, Starfire felt like her heart must explode from the pain as she rose to her feet crying out in anguish, when her sister’s cry for help snapped her out of the feverish haze clouding her mind. Looking around quickly, Starfire’s eyes followed the gouge in the snow next to her all the way to the edge of the cliff where her sister hung precariously.

 

  Running to the icy ledge, Starfire kneeled to help her sister when she heard the sounds of combat behind her. Whipping around, Starfire froze as she saw Startüm throw himself at the mass of Scourge charging onto the plateau after them.

 

  The urgency in Startüm’s mind-speak brought her thoughts into crystal clear focus. Crawling to the cliff’s very edge, Starfire’s matted silver hair whipped about her face in the blowing wind as she reached out for her sister. Hanging over the side as far as she dared, Starfire wrapped her small hands under her sister’s thick furry shoulders.

  Using all of her new form’s strength she tried to pull her sister up to safety, but Frostbrand was simply too heavy. Her twin sister’s transformation had turned her into a Werewolf. Their peoples’ largest most powerful fighting form, while Starfire had only managed her people’s weaker humanoid shape.

  Crying out in rage, Starfire felt an unbelievable fury welling up inside of her as the magic inside of her responded to her need. Suddenly, overwhelming power flowed through her veins as the ice beneath her began to crack. This time, when Starfire reached for her sister, she easily pulled her up the cliff’s ledge without hesitation as power thrummed through her small frame. Quickly, she carried her sister back onto the plateau just as the entire icy ridge broke free. With a loud crack, the ice plummeted to the Otso River far below.

  Turning around with her sister still held in her arms, Starfire screamed as Startüm went down under a screeching gray wave of Scourge. With every swing of his glowing blue blades, Starfire saw him slaughter the terrible creatures by the dozen as bloody pieces of Scourge flew through the air in every direction, but it wasn’t enough.

  From the bond that they now shared, Starfire knew Startüm was at the end of his energy reserves. Being a Paladin of Ukko meant that he could heal his injuries almost instantly, but that was only as long as he had the power to do so. Through their link, she could feel the terrible agony Startüm suffered fighting for their lives as if it were her very own. It felt as if she was repeatedly being torn apart. As more and more of the foul beasts charged onto the plateau, she knew it was only a matter of time before they killed him. There were just too many.

  Crying out in fury, Starfire felt the magic of her birthright responded to her need as something exploded deep within her breast. As raw power poured into her veins, she felt the hair on her head begin to burn like fire as flames rose from her clenched fists. Letting her sister slide to the snow at her feet, Starfire screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

  Throwing her head back, Starfire howled as fire poured out of her eyes and mouth as she released all of her magic in one massive burst. The fiery blast swept out from her in a devastating wave of searing fire. Crossing the plateau, it incinerated everything in its path, before slamming to a stop against the side of the mountain with an earthshaking impact as Starfire collapsed to the ground.

  Chapter Eight

  Location Irlendria / Nessa Manitou:

  With a start, Nessa jerked wide awake on the grass mats of her wigwam. Her head still ached from last night’s souljourn, but for the first time since her brother’s death, she felt the terrible anguish of his passing bearable. Rolling to her hooves, she almost collapsed from the sudden movement. Splaying out her four legs, Nessa brace herself as she doubled over weakly.

  Breathing heavy Nessa held her reeling head. It seemed to take forever, but slowly the ground stopped spinning. Looking down at herself, she was shocked to see how gaunt she’d become. The outline of her ribs stood out starkly under her skin, while her greater torso was emaciated from lack of food. No wonder she felt so light headed.

  Slowly the memories of that fateful day came back to her. Nessa had collapsed in front of her father when the Wakinyan had first delivered the ‘Death Message’ of her brother’s passing. The horrendous torment of her brother’s final moments had made her delirious with grief, but the nightly visits of the Wakinyan had nearly destroyed her mind.

  Several days later when her brother’s severely mutilated body had been brought back by the Raven’s Tribe still alive, Nessa’s father and Uzila, the Tribe’s Shaman, tried to console her with the good news, but their words had only driven her into a distraught frenzy. Weeks later when her brother came to visit almost fully healed, she’d attacked him without hesitation to the shock of her father and his guards. They had to forcibly restrain her to stop her from killing him.

  Nessa’s stomach suddenly growled painfully as the smell of food came to her over the stench of her unwashed body. Near the entrance, she saw the grains and dried meats that had been left for her to regain her strength. Staggering with each step, she managed to cross the wigwam before collapsing in front of the open clay jars.

  Feverishly, Nessa began stuffing food into her mouth with both hands. At first, the hunger cramps were unbearable, and Nessa thought she would puke, but slowly her stomachs settled down as she ate. Before she knew it, she had finished both jars as she collapsed onto her side in a comatose stupor.

  Nessa’s mind floated as she stared at the skin covered entrance. She had to warn her father of the evil lurking within their midst, but her body wouldn’t move. As her eyes grew heavy, Nessa suddenly realized what was wrong. The food had benn drugged!

  “There … there now my little one, I can see you’re doing much better.” Glassy-eyed, Nessa tried to focus on the face leaning over her, but she couldn’t move her head. “Rest my dear. You’ve been gone from us for quite some time.” After several moments, Nessa recognized the Tribe’s shaman’s wrinkled face leaning over her. Gently Uzila’s callused hands began washing the stench from Nessa’s skin as her craggy voice spoke on.

  “For a time my dear, I worried that you had left us for good.” Seeing Nessa straining to speak, the old shaman clucked her tongue reproachfully. “The Alttash’s Tears I laced your food with is healing you nicely, but it requires all of your body’s energy reserves to work its magic.”

  Hearing the old shaman’s words, Nessa froze in shock. Alttash’s Tears were extremely poisonous and grew throughout the plains. The Tribes used the roots as a last judgment. Legend had it that Alttash’s Tears were given to the Tribes as a gift from the Luonnotar, a gift that could only be consumed by Luonnotar’s chosen.

  For a chosen, Alttash’s Tears accelerated the healing process and restored the body, but for anyone else. It was a quick and horribly painful death. Seeing the look of fear on Nessa’s face, Uzila cackled loudly before turning serious once again.

  “Yes little one, it had come to that. When your father left for Mount Airy to ask Luonnotar to spare your life, Tolnik wasted no time in speaking to the council. As the only present representative of the family, he demanded that you be put out of your misery.” Thoughtfully, the old shaman began braiding Nessa’s long blond hair. “The council would not say no since they know the young buck will be Chief someday.”

  “Cowards, the lot of them!” Spitting on the ground, Uzila swore vehemently. “I told them Wakinyan was visiting you nightly, and this was the domain of Luonnotar, but the fools would hear nothing of it.” Uzila voice cackled even louder. “But old Uzila showed them, didn’t she. I demanded that you be given Alttash’s Tears and let Luonnotar decide your fate. Now that put the whole Tribe in an uproar.”

  Nessa’s eyes began to grow heavy once again as the old shaman stroked her forehead. “You can tell me when you next awake, but for now little one, you are in Luonnotar’s hands.” Gathering her legs underneath her sagging hindquarters, the old shaman pushed herself to her hoov
es using her staff as a brace. Muttering to herself thoughtfully, Uzila took her leave. “I must watch Tolnik. There is something wrong with that young buck.”

  Again, Nessa strained to get the words of warning out, but her body betrayed her. Already it was shutting down as she was forced into the healing sleep of the chosen. Looking back over her shoulder, the old shaman spoke once more before the tent flap fell into place behind her.

  “Hush now little one. You can explain to me what Wakinyan revealed when you awaken.”

  Vision fading, Nessa felt sleep overtake her once more.

  Chapter Nine

  Location Irlendria / Marcus Tullius Cornisus:

  SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

  SSSHHHRRRIIIEEE

  Letting the whistle fall to his chest, Decanus Cornisus bellowed at his bulls. “On my command, clear the walls!” To either side of him, Cornisus saw gladiuses rise in the air. Lifting his blade above his head, Cornisus bellowed again. “Clear the walls!”

  SSSLLLIIICCCKKK

  As one the legionnaires slashed down in front of their scutas with their razor sharp tinnearlian blades, slicing through the ironidium spears hammering against their shields. Again Cornisus bellowed.

  “Advance!” Striding forward, the battle line smashed their scuta into the phalanx, splintering more spearheads. “Clear the walls!”

  SSSLLLIIICCCKKK

  “Advance!” A blow slammed against Cornisus’ greaves as he felt a dagger skitter off his armor. Lifting his shield up Cornisus eyes widened in shock as he saw a young guard grabbing for his armored hoof. As the guard pulled his dagger back for another strike, Cornisus smashed his scutum at the male.

  Ignoring the blood streaming down his ruined face, the guard weakly reached once more for Cornisus’ armored leg.

  Cornisus felt his vision blur to red as he began hammering uncontrollably at the male’s ruined face. Again and again he slammed the scutum down with all of his might, but the guard simply ignored the terrible blows as he strained to reach Cornisus with his dagger.

  Unbelievably, Cornisus felt more hands clutching at his shield. Stepping back, he ripped his scutum free, quickly assessing the situation with a practiced eye. It didn’t make any sense. Instead of falling back once they’d lost their spears as legionary tactics dictated. The Praetorians had thrown away their shields and were now attacking with only their daggers.

  What in Akras name was wrong with them? They were throwing their lives away for no reason!

  Hammering at the Praetorians with his scutum, Cornisus waded back into position using his gladius like a scythe. Every sweep of his blade sliced through the grasping hands and arms, but still the guards silently hammered at his shield wall with their bloody stumps as they sought to drag him down.

  Heart pounding, Cornisus felt the touch of fear creep into his chest for the first time. Even during the Great War against the Tuonellians Hordes, he’d never witnessed anything as horrifying as this. It was as if they were fighting against the living dead! Bile rose in the back of Cornisus’ throat as he saw the legionnaire next to him go down screaming underneath a bleeding oozing pile of biting guards.

  In a fear-driven fury, Cornisus began slamming his gladius into the slack faces pressing in on him as he bellowed in defiance. To his shocked amazement, the mutilated Praetorians began dropping to the ground unmoving. Clearing a space around him, Cornisus began dragging the creatures off of the legionnaire next to him, giving them the same headshot as he’d given the other ones.

  A second later, Cornisus was pulling Legionnaire Quinctius Cato back to his unsteady hooves. The younger bull was visibly shaken as his wide-eyes bulged out from fear, but other than being covered in the blood and gore of the guards, he was otherwise unharmed. Breathing heavy, Cornisus pushed Cato back into formation as he took up position next to the younger male. As the entire line began to buckle, Cornisus blew a shrill blast on his whistle.

  “Go for the heads, bullocks!” With a renewed fury, his contubernium tore into the guards. Slowly the line steadied once again as Praetorians began dropping to the ground dead around them. As the next rank of Phalanx began hammering against their shield walls, Cornisus blew three shrill blasts on his whistle.

  “Clear the walls and fall back!” In one smooth motion, Cornisus’ legionnaires slashed with their gladiuses before falling one rank back, while the second rank moved forward into position. As a new shield wall formed around him, Cornisus blew a quick double blast.

  “Advance!” Slamming his shield forward, Cornisus repeatedly struck at the heavy spears as he relentlessly lead his bulls into the teeth of the phalanx. The odds in front of them were manageable in the tight alley, but Cornisus’ blood still ran cold at the strange silence of the Praetorians formation they faced. Closing to melee range, the hackles of Cornisus’ mane rose under his armor as shrill whistle blasts began sounding from the backside of the formation.

  Grimacing sourly, Cornisus knew that could only mean one thing. They had incoming from behind.

  Chapter Ten

  Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

  Captain Sean MacRory watched the small police boat’s approach from the Ormos side of the lagoon in the predawn light of morning. Inside the flat-bottomed boat, he could see a group of men wearing the starched light blue uniforms and white jackboots of the local police force riding inside.

  Thoughtfully, his bright blue eyes narrowed as he took note of the distinctive white broad gun belts and diagonal shoulder straps that each hard faced islander wore. It was something he would have expected from porting in a much larger city like Mumbai or Calcutta, not a small tourist island in the southern Aegean Sea. Either way, Sean knew what was coming next. Without looking away, he spoke in an even voice to the deck cadet at his side.

  “Mr. MacSweeney, I need you to find Chief McDougal and have him join me on deck with Hans and Wolfgang at his earliest convenience.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Sean grinned at the young cadet as he came to attention. His name was George MacSweeney, and he was still wet behind the ears. Aunt Harriet had brought George to him the last time they’d dropped anchor in Belfast asking if he’d give the young man a chance to learn the trade. Grudgingly he’d agreed.

  The MacRory family was one of the fifty-nine families that made up the Gallowglass Clan. Originally considered the warrior elite among the Gaelic-Norse Clans residing in the Western Isles of Scotland, they had been invited to settle in Ireland by the Irish Nobility. In return for their military service, they were given lordships across Ireland.

  The local Irish had called them Gallóglaigh in old Welch because they were considered ‘foreign soldiers’ due to their Irish ancestors intermarrying with Norse settlers. Over the centuries, the Gallóglaigh became known as the Gallowglass Clan and had a major impact on Ireland’s culture and history. Unfortunately, that influence had waned in the last few decades, ever since the Clan had fallen on hard times.

  It all started when the Harland and Wolff shipyards were destroyed in the great bombing of 1941 during World War II. In one strike the industrial powerhouse of Ireland was destroyed, setting the entire country back one hundred years and knocking the Gallowglass Clan to its proverbial financial knees. The Clans’ shipping empire had been a major player in the break-bulk cargo industry, shipping goods around the world before the invention of the modern-day container ships that had revolutionized the industry after World War II.

  Unfortunately, after the war, Ireland’s shipyards were never rebuilt to their pre-war levels. Primarily due to the Clans terrible financial losses. Still, the families might have rallied their countrymen to the task if the Americans hadn’t taken over the bulk cargo industry almost overnight. Once it had become obvious that Ireland had lost its foothold on the oceans most of the Clans had sought new avenues to regain their wealth. A few of the families still owned their own ships, like the MacRory’s, and continued plying their trade on the oceans after the war.

  At first, the shipping business had be
en good, and the families had prospered, but over the years that began to change. It happened slowly at first, but as the years progressed there were almost no shipping contracts left to be had. More and more the world’s non-bulk cargo was slowly taken over by the container industry, but still the family somehow managed to make ends meet.

  Usually, that came in the form of smuggling and over the years the MacRorys had become the de facto experts. In his younger days Sean had run guns to the Congo and Nigeria, diamonds from South Africa and ivory tusks from Tanzania, while fighting off pirates from Somalia on his way to India and beyond. Although, unlike other smugglers, there were some things they didn’t transport. Most notably those exceptions were illegal drugs and human trafficking.

  It was a dangerous life, but one that Sean had come to love. They all knew their luck couldn’t hold out forever. Most smugglers didn’t stay in the racket long due to the nature of the cut throat business, but he and his boys weren’t in it for the money so much as for the adrenaline rush. Through it all, his crew had become one tight-knit family.

  The end of their run came unexpectedly in the busy South African Port of Durban. One moment, they were tearing up the Maydon Wharf and the next they were being dragged into the local lockup under heavy guard by SARS Customs Officers. Oddly enough they hadn’t even been running contraband at the time.

  Sean had realized his mistake almost immediately. The last time they were in port he had refused a shipment of human cargo at the demands of the International Chinese Mafia that “taxed” all smuggling operations passing through their port. He and his crew were facing twenty years to life and the loss of everything they owned. If it hadn’t been for Larissa Evans timely arrival on that fateful day they might not have ever seen the light of day again.