by S. S. Segran
“Fair enough… The meeting wasn’t bad, I guess. He mainly wanted to apologize, but I just can’t help but feel unnerved being so close to him again. He’s saying all the right things and yet it’s like there’s a shadow lurking deep in there somewhere.”
“I understand, youngling. It is going to take time for him to win back the trust of the people and the chosen ones. This will not be an easy journey for any of us, Hutar included. It takes vigilance and continued effort to cast away the darkness once it has sunk its claws into your soul.” Nageau ambled along the partially frozen river and Aari followed, the snow crunching beneath their boots. “Let us pay Mariah a visit. She is giving some of the youths a hand with the horses.”
Aari followed the Elder down the slope to the stable. Inside, he peeked through all the stalls until he found Mariah happily brushing the glossy coat of a regal black stallion. “Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Great! This guy is such a sweetheart!” She hugged the horse and it nuzzled her lovingly.
Nageau appeared at the door of the stall, beaming. “Ah, I see you are caring for my favorite stallion.”
“Yeah,” Mariah grinned. “Korv is amazing. I heard his story too, about how he’s named after a heroic horse from your island ancestors’ home.” She stroked the animal’s flank. “I’d love to take him for a ride some time, if that’s possible.”
“What’s your goal, to ride every horse in Dema-Ki?” Aari asked. “You’ve ridden six of them already.”
“Yes, perhaps you can, Mariah,” Nageau said. “Though I suppose I should first warn you that you may be called upon to return to the outside world at any moment.”
Aari spun around to face the Elder, mouth hanging open. “What?”
“The Sentries may soon need your help, younglings.”
“I’m confused,” Mariah said. “Why do they need us? I mean, really, what is it we can do that the Sentries can’t? How are we of any use besides being extra hands?”
“Never in all my years have I seen the things that you and your friends have begun to manifest as a group,” Nageau answered. “And you have proven, by fate or chance, that you can perceive things the Sentries cannot.”
“But what about our training?” Aari asked. “We’re not through, are we?”
The Elder slid his fingers from the horse’s forehead down to its muzzle. “Truthfully, we do not know. There is no further guidance as to what needs to be done to tap into your latent capabilities. Perhaps your training has in reality already ended and we are merely pushing against a wall that can no longer be moved. But if your training is yet to be concluded, we will know in time and continue accordingly. Your abilities will grow when they are truly tested, but from what the Elders and I have witnessed thus far, your individual powers have improved dramatically. As well, your combined capabilities have proven to be exponential, not only in intensity but also in variability. This is something that the people of Dema-Ki have never seen.”
“So…” Mariah swept her thumb over the bristles of the brush. “How will we know when and where we’re needed? Will the Sentries ask for us?”
“The signs will show us when we must send you out,” Nageau answered. “It could be soon or a little further down the road.”
“Something tells me it’s going to be the former.” Aari leaned against the stall door and tapped his lips slowly. “Elder Nageau, something’s been nagging at me. If Reyor does learn about our abilities and our role in the prophecy, won’t our families be in danger? I know you have Marshall and another Sentry watching over them, but are there better alternatives if the need arises?”
“The Elders have been discussing this as well. For the moment they are safe, but we do have a plan in place should the harbinger’s shadow fall over them.”
Aari dipped his head. The Elder smiled warmly at the friends, then bade them a good evening and left the stable. Aari picked up some hay and fed it to the horse as Mariah worked on picking the animal’s hooves clean. “We put a lot of faith in the Elders,” he thought aloud.
“They haven’t given us reason not to,” Mariah said. “And they put a lot of faith in us as well.”
“Talk about pressure.”
“I know, but at least it feels like we’re working with family and not a soulless organization, you know? A family with a reliable support system.”
“True.” Aari waved at a girl about his age as she brought a sweaty horse in after what looked like an intense ride; she smiled and waved back.
As Mariah moved around the horse, she said, “Something feels really different.”
“Hm?”
“We initially agreed to train last year because we were excited to unlock our abilities. Yeah, there was the prophecy and all that, but it was sorta in the background. Then there was the battle on the mountain, and that whole road trip to California that gave us our first taste of Reyor’s plans for the world. But this. You can almost touch the darkness that’s growing out there. It’s not just crops dying anymore. It’s people. All over the world. And something tells me we’re really, truly going to get our feet wet and our hands dirty.”
“I know what you mean. It is different now, and I’m pretty sure we’re all starting to feel it.”
“I’m scared, Aari.”
“Me too, ‘Riah.”
They looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before she returned her attention to the horse. Aari slunk out of the stable, lost in the storm of his thoughts and the thunder of his growing fears.
13
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are currently one hour away from Dubai International and will be arriving earlier than expected. Our descent will begin shortly. It’s a bright, sunny day in the City of Gold. Temperature’s close to forty degrees Celsius with high humidity—for our American passengers on board, it’s one hundred-and-four degrees Fahrenheit. And for those of you getting onto connecting flights, enjoy the cool comfort of the airport. Everyone else, hope you brought your bathing suits along! You’ll find some relief from this heat with a nice dip at some of Dubai’s beautiful beaches and pools.”
The Aboriginal Australian captain of the A380, the world’s largest passenger airliner, released the switch to end his transmission into the cabin’s PA system. He stretched his arms over his balding head, rotating his shoulders. Gotta quit these long-haul flights, he thought. Can’t wait to get back to Sydney. Hope Janice and the kids are enjoying the family reunion… Should give ’em a call once we land.
The flight was at full capacity, with nearly five hundred passengers and crew members. Behind the pilot and his first officer was the relief crewmember, a beaming blonde in her thirties. The pilot had been fond of her since the day they’d met; she always came to work with a bright face and kind words.
“Thank goodness for that tailwind, huh?” she said. “Saved enough fuel to make the bean-counters in the office smile.”
The tanned, square-faced first officer looked absolutely disgruntled. “Who cares? I can’t wait to get this thing on the ground. It’s so bloody hot in here, I’m tempted to take my clothes off.”
“What are you on about?” the pilot asked. “The ECS is doing great. We’ve got optimal cabin climate.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
The pilot sighed. “How’s the headache, mate?”
“I think it’s gotten worse since yesterday. It’s been coming like the devil’s hitting my skull with a jackhammer, then it goes and returns worse. I can feel it starting up again.”
“We’ll be landing soon. Hang in there.”
“Not soon enough,” the first officer grumbled.
“Maybe Annie ought to take over for you?”
“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll tell you what, though. Once we land, I’m taking everything Dubai’s got to cure this headache, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
The captain grinned, shaking his head. Ten minutes later, the autopilot began to lower the mass
ive aircraft from its cruising altitude of forty thousand feet. The small talk died down shortly after as the flight crew prepared for their descent over the Gulf of Oman. The pilot hit the push-to-talk switch on the sidestick and spoke into his headset. “Dubai approach, good afternoon, Zeus 183, level twenty thousand.”
A smooth, Arabic-accented voice from Dubai International Airport’s air traffic control responded. “Zeus 183, Dubai approach, turn left heading three-two-zero, descend and maintain ten thousand feet.”
“Left to three-two-zero, down to ten thousand feet, Zeus 183.”
As the pilot reduced the altitude, the first officer let out a cry, savagely beating his fists against his head.
The pilot jumped. “Whoa! Mate, what are you—”
“Make it go away,” the first officer groaned. “Make—it—go—away!”
“Hey, hey! Listen to me, okay? Listen to my voice! You gotta—”
The first officer unleashed an agonized roar. He stopped pummeling himself and held his head in his hands, every inch of him trembling.
The pilot fought to remain calm. He pressed the switch on his sidestick again. “Dubai approach, Zeus 183, we have a medical emergency.”
“Zeus 183, Dubai approach, state nature of emergency.”
“Dubai approach, first officer experiencing seizure, request EMT upon arrival.”
“Zeus 183, Dubai approach copy, arranging medical response upon landing.”
The pilot turned to the relief crewmember behind the first officer. “Take over from him,” he ordered.
Nodding, the woman unbuckled herself and got up. As she approached the first officer, he thrashed and bared his teeth at her. Stark red veins stretched around the whites of his eyes. The woman stepped back instinctively but quickly gathered her wits. She reached out to hold the man and spoke calmly until his thrashing subsided and he’d more or less regained his composure. Once she’d unbuckled him, she guided him to the seat behind the pilot’s and secured him to it with the seatbelt.
“Everything alright?” the pilot asked.
“I think so.” The woman exhaled, shaking slightly, then took the seat beside him and slipped on the headset.
“Good.” The pilot pressed his sidestick. “Dubai approach, Zeus 183, approaching ten thousand, information Foxtrot.”
“Zeus 183, Dubai approach, maintain three-two-zero, descend to five thousand, visual approach runway three-zero left.”
The plane descended to five thousand feet and turned to line up with the runway. As the desert landscape drew closer, the skyline of Dubai city began to shimmer at a distance.
“There it is,” the female officer murmured. “Burj Khalifa.”
Up ahead and slightly to the left, an immense reflective structure rose half a mile into the sky, befitting its title of the world’s tallest building. Thousands of hand-cut glass panels glinted in the desert’s sunlight, and high-intensity strobe lights mounted on the building’s spire flashed in warning to passing aircrafts.
Furious stomping from behind wrenched the pilot’s attention away from the scene. The first officer glared at him, body shuddering as if he was being subjected to electric shocks. Blood dripped from his tear ducts and nose, staining his white uniform.
But he didn’t seem hostile. Instead he looked petrified of the crewmembers sitting at the controls, as if they were the ones losing their minds, not him. He swung his head wildly, sweat coating his skin, teeth gnashing as his hands slapped at the seatbelt until it came unfastened.
“Secure him!” the pilot shouted. “Now!”
The woman threw herself at the delirious man. The first officer, already on his feet, spun around just as she made contact. He bellowed, grabbing her face, and slammed her mercilessly into the side panel of the cockpit. There was a distinct snap and she slid to the floor like a ragdoll, her face frozen in an expression of shock.
The pilot screamed at the first officer to sit down. The authority in his voice seemed to work; the bloodied copilot went still, staring blankly at the captain.
The plane now flew at fifteen hundred feet over downtown Dubai and the airport was just within reach. Perspiration dripped down the captain’s forehead. Should I land? Or request an emergency go-around?
As he reached for his comm switch, something grabbed him around his throat, squeezing. He let go of the controls to pry himself free but the first officer had an iron grip locked around his neck. The pilot unbuckled his seatbelt to fight back, digging his nails into the first officer’s hands. He heaved short gasps, lungs burning, and could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his head.
In desperate attempt, he crushed the switch on the sidestick in his fist. “Help,” he rasped. “First officer—ch-choking… hel—”
The hands suddenly forced him down, smashing his head into the controls. The plane’s nose dipped and the aircraft banked violently to the left. Holding onto the last bit of his will, the pilot tried to right the aircraft from its plunge but was hauled out of his seat. He came face-to-face with the first officer and could only scream before being thrown to the floor and stomped on.
Alarms in the cockpit blared earsplitting warnings, but the pilot couldn’t do anything. He saw the sole of the first officer’s boot coming down onto his face and the last thing he felt was the bone-crushing impact a second before the plane struck the ground.
* * *
“Gareth!” Deverell yelled. “Get out here and look at this!”
Startled, Gareth nearly dropped his phone into the toilet. He tore out of the bathroom and found his brother staring agape at something on the television in their flat. “What is it?”
Deverell turned up the volume in response. The news channel showed a live shot of the massive mall in downtown Dubai. The entire west wing of the building was engulfed in flames and the base of Burj Khalifa was on fire, tendrils working up the building and burning the interior. People were heard screaming, and a few ran out of the tower, hysterical, their clothes smoldering.
“What happened, Dev?”
“A huge passenger plane just crashed into the building a few minutes ago. Look, right there.” Deverell pointed with the remote. On one corner of the split screen, a video taken by a tourist showed the A380 falling out of the sky and plowing into the mall, a meteor of death. The twins watched, aghast.
“I can’t see how anyone on that flight would have survived,” Gareth murmured.
“And all the people in the mall,” Deverell added quietly. “How could that have happened?”
In the midst of the cacophony of sirens and flashing lights on the screen, Gareth felt an icy wave of turbulence roll in his chest, almost knocking the breath out of him. Resting a hand over his heart, he turned to his brother. “Do you… do you feel it?”
Deverell sat heavily on the table behind them. “The fabric. It’s been disturbed again.”
“Yeah.” Gareth turned away from the screen, pensive apprehension on his face. “Something else is afoot,” he said, “and it slipped right under our noses.”
Deverell picked up his phone from the table. “We can’t be the only ones who felt the disturbance. The flight originated in Sydney… let’s see if the Sentries in Australia know something.”
14
Jag shut the door of the van and stared up at the stately three-story chalet. The building, known to the Sentries as the Lodge, was used as their base in Europe. Located on one of the smaller, snow-covered mountains in the French Alps, the Lodge overlooked a lake that hadn’t yet frozen over. Coniferous and deciduous trees wreathed the luminous and serene surroundings that could put a turbulent heart at ease.
This is so unexpected, Jag thought. The Elders said we might be called out on a mission soon, but I didn’t think that meant two days after we were told about it…
“Quite a place,” Kody said as he and Aari joined Jag.
Marshall Sawyer, who’d met them in Mayo, the town nearest to Dema-Ki, rounded the vehicle and grinned; Jag was still getting used to the man’s now cle
an-shaven face. “Glad you like it. Come on, let’s get our stuff inside.”
The girls suddenly appeared beside them, looking ecstatic. “We just saw an ibex!” Mariah whooped. “The horns on that thing were huge!”
“There are quite a few animals up here.” Marshall opened the back of the van and passed the bags to the friends. “Bears, a few types of deer, wild cats, wolves, bouquetin—”
“What’s that?” Tegan asked.
“A bouquetin? That’s French for ibex.”
Kody rolled his eyes. “Why not just say ‘ibex’?”
“Hey, don’t ask me. I’m not French.”
“Marshall, whose bike is that?” Jag asked, pointing at a maroon-and-black dual-sport motorcycle parked near the base of the Lodge.
“Everyone’s,” the Sentry replied. “We keep it here as an emergency vehicle. I see you eyeballing it, kiddo. Do you ride?”
“My brother bought one earlier this year. He never let me near it, so I’d take it out for a spin whenever he was out of the house.”
“Cheeky.”
Jag shouldered his bag and followed the group up the stone steps to the Lodge. The large timber door opened before they reached the last stair, revealing a tall black woman with steel-gray eyes, looking cozy in her jeans and white pullover. She smiled dazzlingly and welcomed them in, introducing herself as Dominique Mboya from the Democratic Republic of Congo.
“I am so honored to meet you,” she told the friends in a thick French accent. There was such profound emotion in her eyes that Jag thought he would drown in them if he didn’t avert his gaze.
The friends blushed in unison at her words and mumbled awkwardly, making Marshall laugh. Once the group introduced themselves and shared some pleasantries, Dominique gave them a tour of the place. The main level housed bedrooms where the friends and others would bunk. A third of it was occupied by an electronics room where some Sentries would experiment using Dema-Ki defensive and offensive technology as inspiration to create new equipment. Below them, the massive basement was used as a training and recreation area, complete with a gym, an open area with practice mats for self-defense training, a pool table, and a dart board. There was also a medical bay tucked at the far end.