The Esoteric Design

by A. R. Crebs

  “Well?” Troy asked, tearing Aria from her thoughts.

  “He’s on the run from Walten. Apparently, James had a run-in with Euclid, and the bastard’s working with Walten as we expected. James is in hiding now. We’ll have to be careful about contacting him from now on.” She ran a hand over her DNAIS on her wrist, staring at the small chip embedded in her skin. “He’s also got a Hawk on its way to our position. It should be here soon. It will take us to where we need to go.”

  “So, looks like we’re back to where we started.” Troy rubbed his armored hands together. “Really screws with the perspective of everything.”

  “We can’t think like that. We had no idea what we were dealing with then,” she said.

  “I should’ve done something to prevent all of this,” Dovian murmured.

  Aria and Troy stared at the Sorcēarian. He had a rather gloomy expression.

  “I’ve wasted so many chances, so much of my life. My carelessness has only caused the loss of more lives in the long run. This battle is one that you two should have never been brought into in the first place.” He faced them. Once again, Dovian appeared like the day they first met: older, mysterious, and angry. “This is my entire fault. This is a battle that I should be fighting alone.”

  “You can’t fight this battle alone, Dovian,” Aria stated.

  He gave her a stern look. “Would it really make that much of a difference?”

  Aria was silent. She and Troy gaped at the Sorcēarian. Just like that, Dovian reduced all of their recent efforts into nothing. He basically called them out on their uselessness. Even as top soldiers, they weren’t capable of doing much outside of getting in his way. Just as the recent attacks were beyond the militaries’ comprehension, the complexity of it was just the same to the species. The humans were of no use.

  “I don’t care what you say, Dovian,” Aria ground out. “You are not going alone.”

  “I cannot risk your lives on top of the ones that have already been lost,” he mumbled.

  “We have the Hawk; you need it,” she argued.

  “I have a human-made frequency tuner, something that would easily shred your body to pieces if you tried using it yourself,” he pointed out. “I’d already be in Ives by now.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “You said it yourself last night; you were outnumbered when you came across Euclid’s base.”

  “And how many can you take down?” Dovian questioned.

  Troy stepped forward. “Does it really matter?” he asked with irritation. “Listen, you can fight the battle alone if you’d like, but don’t count us out. It isn’t your race that is in jeopardy; it’s ours. As humans, we have to fight. If we don’t, then what’s the point? What’s the point in saving a race that doesn’t value themselves?”

  Dovian stared at his comrades, his hard expression softening. ‘That’s a very good point,’ he thought. Though, it wasn’t quite in the context Troy was meaning. Did the human’s really value themselves? They made it a sport to kill one another with endless wars. All Euclid was doing was speeding up the process.

  “We’re not getting anywhere any faster by arguing,” Aria said. She glared at Dovian. “Whether you like it or not, we’re coming. Someday you’re going to need us by your side, you’ll see. We can save you, too.” With a loud click, she loaded her weapon.

  Dovian’s cerulean eyes watched her green ones. A small smile threatened to turn up a corner of his lips as he felt more than he heard her thoughts. She was worried about him. Even though he refused to show it, Troy also felt camaraderie with the Sorcēarian. No matter how much Dovian argued, the two were not going to give up. And if it was the other way around, neither would he.

  “Let’s go,” Dovian finally agreed.

  The wait was only thirty minutes before the Hawk arrived in Roma, having been given special clearance by Dario Benvenuto to land in the center square. Aria couldn’t help but notice the relief on the man’s face to have her and her team gone from his city.

  “Take your bad luck with you. I’ve had enough these past few days,” Benvenuto said, covered in bandages from the battle that occurred in Saray after the treaty signing. “I was hoping to have some peace and quiet for a change, but it looks like that won’t be coming any time soon.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but this war involves everyone. We will need help if we want to succeed,” Aria replied.

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ve already been in communication with Alijah Dizdarevic. He’s willing to help us out now that our military has been diminished.”

  “Try calling up Lebedev. Maybe he and Kovacevic can pull a few strings now that they have a new alliance,” she suggested.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Lebedev owes me one anyway,” Benvenuto said, wiping at his forehead. He looked rather flushed despite the cold air.

  “Anything will help,” Aria said.

  “I wish you the best. Take care of yourselves out there. It’s a far too dangerous war for only three people.”

  Aria feigned a smile, trying to stay optimistic over the whole ordeal. What she needed right now was more than three people. She needed an entire army. Still, everyone was busy rebuilding their own militaries and cities, and the ones that were supposed to have her back were currently hunting her team down. They truly were on their own.

  She turned to the Hawk 90, staring at the empty seats inside the cabin. Apprehensively, she and the two men boarded the vehicle. Setting her baggage in the back, she spun, instinctively looking for the pilot. How desperately she wished it was Gavin sitting in the cockpit, but it was a foolish thought.

  “Class A-5, Commander of Special Tasking, Aria Ivanov?” The pilot asked, unbuckling from his seat. He took two massive strides toward the woman, offering her a hand. He was young, very young. His slicked-back hair was a dark auburn streaked with hints of orange. His eyes were green with brown centering the pupils, shimmering with anticipation. With a thin physique, he looked taller than he actually was, standing about six centimeters higher than Aria. His voice was medium in tone, only giving him more of a rookie appeal. Aria forced a kind smile and shook his hand in return. “Hagar, Aren Hagar. C-5 pilot,” he eagerly said.

  Turning to Troy, the young man held out his hand again, feeding the soldier a big and toothy grin. Troy quickly followed up with one of his own. “Class A-4, Lieutenant Commander of Special Tasking, Troy Moreau?” he asked.

  “That’s me.” Troy shook the boy’s hand.

  “Aren Hagar, sir. It’s an honor to meet you two. I’ve heard a lot about your work during the False Syndicate war in Britainia,” he said cheerfully.

  “Don’t remind me,” Troy scoffed.

  “Just when I was forgetting all about that mission….” Aria rolled her eyes, remembering a certain cold night in the middle of the bushes and Troy’s constant antics, something that had served as a more humorous memory rather than the gut-wrenching others from the mission.

  “You saved a lot of lives, I know that,” Aren said, his voice lowering as he looked upon Dovian. “And you must be the, uh, sorcerer everyone’s talking about.”

  “Sorcēarian,” Dovian corrected.

  “Right.” Aren reluctantly held his hand out, shivering under Dovian’s cold stare. “Delighted to meet you, sir.”

  Dovian stared at the waiting appendage, making the young pilot feel awkward for a few moments before finally grasping his hand and shaking it.

  “I hope you know how to pilot this thing to its best potential,” Dovian stated dryly.

  “I’m the second best there is, sir.” Aren frowned then. “Well, was, actually. I guess you can call me top of the Hawk pilots now.”

  Aria took her seat, staring out the side window. Aren stammered a bit before adding, “I had the best teacher I could hope for, Mr. Sigo….” Aria’s eyes lifted to the young man. “He taught me everything he knew.”

  “Gavin taught you?” Troy asked.

  “Yes, sir. And I’m sorry he’s gone now. I know
you all were close.” Aren cleared his throat. “Sorry to bring it up.”

  “It’s alright. It’s nice to know that he had a hand in your upbringing.” Troy patted the pilot on the back, taking his seat beside Aria.

  “Right. Well, how ‘bout I get my ass to work, then?” Aren quickly turned, climbing into the cockpit. “Where we headin’?”

  “Ives,” Dovian replied, leaning against the wall, the doors to the cabin sliding closed.

  “Ives?” Aren sputtered. “You, you mean the place surrounded by hurricanes? The place that’s supposedly impassable?”

  “That’s the place!” Troy winked. “Gavin got us in; let’s see if he taught you well.”

  “Roger, sir!” Aren nodded quickly, slipping on his helmet. He diligently worked at lifting the copter off the ground. “We have takeoff. Destination: Ives. ETA: 08:45.”

  Troy, noticing Aria’s fallen face, fed her a gentle smile.

  “Cute kid,” Troy said mentally to the woman.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she replied, finally looking a bit more spirited. “Wouldn’t want to freak him out on his first day.”

  “Damn, I like making the pilots blush,” Troy chuckled.

  “Have I misplaced your sexual orientation?” Dovian butted in.

  Aria snickered.

  “It’s a joke, Dovian! I’m kidding!” Troy quickly countered, turning his head to the Sorcēarian.

  “Hey, I’m not judging,” Dovian replied. “Besides, I think the young man was quite taken by you, based on his thoughts.”

  “You’re kidding, right? The kid is not a flamboyant, is he?” Troy’s face turned a bright shade of red. There was no reply. “IS HE?”

  Dovian did not answer but laughed lowly to himself, watching outside the small window beside him.

  “Shut up.” Troy folded his arms childishly.

  It was going to be a long flight.

  Wandering and padding against the rock with scaly feet, Hector sniffed the air with his tongue pointing outward. After searching for so long, he was finally close. Of course, it didn’t help that he got lost a couple of times along the way, tempted by green pastures and nests full of fresh albatross eggs. What could he do? Dovian had spoiled him since birth, feeding him heaping piles of soup and jerky. Hunting wasn’t Hector’s forte; it was incredible he even made it this long out in the wild. Needless to say, his extra belly fat had diminished during the past week and a half; Dovian would be proud of him for persevering for so long.

  Halting, he sniffed at the air again. Very close. So, very close.

  He continued his scuttle, his talons clicking against the large boulder as he tried to scale down the side of the wall leading to the valley’s cave system. Hector tried to take quick, large steps. The stones were extra hot in the unusually bright and sunny weather. Looking to the sky, he poked the air with his tongue. Just as expected, the humidity was strangely low in this part of the island. Hector couldn’t remember a single day of his reptilian life where it didn’t rain at least for a short while. Things sure were strange since Dovian left. It was like the island itself was rebelling at the disappearance of its keeper.

  A sound alerted the lizard. Hector stopped; his flaps expanded from his neck as he listened intently. No, that was not the sound he was looking for. In fact, that was a sound he did not want to be near at all. Hector paddled forward, quickly making his way down the side of the valley in the opposite direction from whence the terrifying shriek came. Another thing that changed since his master’s disappearance was the overall feeling of Ives. There was something not right about the land. It wasn’t very peaceful in nature. It felt…evil and dark. If that sound was any indication of what the valley held, Hector wanted nothing to do with the horrors that lay in the caves, but it also meant it was pertinent he followed through with his mission. He had to hurry.

  Scurrying down the last couple of boulders, Hector slipped, the smooth surface sending the plump reptile onto his back at the foot of the hillside. Hissing, he tossed himself over, sand in his beady eyes. Blinking slowly, he stuck out his long pink tongue, trying to gather his bearings. The smell was rather horrifying and so were the sudden vibrations that shook from beneath his scaly underside. Lifting his head, his flaps abruptly expanding, Hector scampered backward into the rocky wall behind him as he saw the massive monster of a beast lurching toward him. It was a frilled monitor at least fifteen times the size of Hector. With each pounding step the creature took, charging at full speed, little Hector bounced slightly, his stomach slapping against the rocky ground. The beast slid to a halt, dust billowing in tan clouds around its body as it called out loudly with neck flaps flopping out to the sides, making it look even larger.

  This was the one-of-a-kind King Lizard, the very lizard that Hector had been warned about. Also, the very lizard he was looking for. Large tattoos lined the creature’s skin, markings that were centuries old, given by the Sorcēarians. Down the side of its neck was another colorful stretched marking, one that was hard to read from a lizard’s point of view. ‘Petey’ it was called. It watched tiny Hector with golden eyes, head turned slightly to the side. The King Lizard called out again, the bellow echoing throughout the entire gorge. From the many caves, hundreds of scurrying monitors neared the center of the valley, surrounding Hector and the frightening Petey.

  Hector flapped his frills once again, honked the loudest he could manage, and gave Petey his meanest look possible. Then, he hunkered down, praying that the King Lizard wasn’t going to make him his afternoon snack.

  “I didn’t know you could play the piano,” James said as he quietly walked over to the grand piano in the living area of his apartment. Pulling up a chair, he sat beside the small girl who was quietly playing the instrument on the bench.

  “Mommy taught me.” She looked up at him, her fingers stopping.

  James was silent, staring at the girl’s hands. “Please, continue playing. It was a very pretty song,” he said quietly.

  The little girl with bright-green eyes and long black hair looked back at the keys of ivory and obsidian. Carefully, she continued her song, her small fingers expertly pressing against the large keys. It was a sad melody but still beautiful all the same. James watched the girl as she kicked her dress-shoed feet back and forth, unable to touch the pedals of the large piano. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, casting an aura of light around the girl’s body as she played. He smiled, the scene making the man a tad-bit sentimental. This is what he fought for every day–for a peaceful life, for a life full of sweetness and joy. Sadly, the reason the child was in his apartment were for reasons quite the opposite of what he had wished to achieve in his line of work.

  As the song slowed to a lower octave, James’ eyes dropped to the small plate in his hands. Chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk, would it even make a difference in this poor girl’s life? Would she even want to be around him in the future once he mustered the strength to tell her the truth, tell her that he was the reason her parents were no longer alive? Bad coordinates or not, it wouldn’t bring her parents back, nothing would. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the girl had stopped her playing and was now watching him with sad eyes.

  “James?” she asked timidly.

  “Yes, Aria, my dear?” he replied, lifting his head and smiling at her.

  “Why do you look so sad?” she asked, crawling on her knees on the black bench, her blue dress crinkling underneath her posture. “Do you not like cookies?” She pointed at the platter in his lap.

  “Oh, I was just lost in my thoughts, sweetheart. In fact, I brought the cookies to cheer both of us up.” Setting the plate on the bench, he lifted a glass and handed it over to the small girl. She grinned and giggled, sipping from the glass with both of her tiny hands holding onto either side.

  “What is this?” she asked, setting the glass down.

  “Milk. Have you had it?” he asked, sipping from his own.

  “No, well maybe once, but I can’t really remem
ber.” She shook her head, her long hair falling over her shoulders from behind her blue headband.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  Taking another gulp, she made a funny face. “I think so.”

  “Here, let me show you a trick,” James said. Taking a fresh cookie, he dunked it into his glass.

  “What are you doing? You’re ruining it,” the girl gasped.

  “This is how you’re supposed to eat the cookie,” he chuckled, taking a bite out of the delicious desert.

  Aria watched, her small mouth hanging open as the man nibbled on his treat. Slowly, she took a large cookie of her own and dunked it into her glass, the milk touching her fingertips. Giggling, she grabbed a second and repeated the actions. “One for each hand!” she exclaimed.

  James laughed, watching the child bite from one cookie and then the other. “You certainly catch on quickly.”

  They sat like that for a while, eating their cookies slowly until the milk was gone from their glasses. Little Aria ended up dumping the last drops of her milk onto the largest crumb she could find. They had eaten nearly a whole dozen between the two of them. Not the healthiest of dinners, but it was the best James could do, and Aria didn’t seem to mind at all.

  “I drew a picture today,” the girl said once they were finished.

  Hopping from the piano bench, she trotted to her schoolbag and tugged out a small digital book. With the item clenched between two hands, she ran up to the man and hopped unexpectedly into his lap. Poking the screen a couple of times and turning a few pages, she brought up her homework for the day.

  “Whatcha got there?” James asked.

  His smile quickly fell as he saw the title of her assignment. On the screen was the label, 'family.' Below, Aria had drawn a picture of two small urns, each one belonging to her mother and father. Then, off to the side, was a tall man in a military uniform and another little boy.

  “That’s mommy, and that’s daddy.” She pointed at the urns. “And that’s you.” Giving a big grin, she looked up and over her shoulder at James, her finger pressed against the image of the militant.