Aegis League series Boxed Set

by S. S. Segran

  The world around him ceased to be and a piercing chill coursed down his back. “Hello, Boss.”

  “You are alive.”

  “I am. I—”

  “Get to Edmonton and call Adrian for instructions. I will make arrangements for your safe passage.”

  Taken aback by the curtness, Tony stammered, “I-I’m forever and always in your debt. Thank you, Boss.”

  “See you soon, Tony.” The call went dead.

  He hung the receiver in its cradle, hurried back to the pickup and pulled onto the freeway; he had a death grip on the wheel. While doggedly faithful, he, along with everyone else under the Boss’s management, had a healthy amount of fear for Phoenix’s founder. Failure of any kind was not tolerated.

  But that’s to be expected. The Boss’s vision is glorious. A better world. A brighter future. A small, crooked leer played on Tony’s lips. And we’re almost there.

  The black Dodge truck parked under an overpass waited for the old red pickup to zoom back onto the freeway. Starting the engine, the driver inside smiled slightly, hazel eyes tracking the vehicle as he kept at a good distance. The wolfdog in the passenger seat beside him observed the pickup with the same cool, intense gaze as its owner.

  Steering with one hand, the man scratched the animal behind the ear. “We got him right where we want him, Chief.”

  6

  The five friends stood under one of the gazebos bordering Dema-Ki’s community square as they watched the villagers disperse after the evening’s gathering. The swaying flames from a fire pit cast a soft glow on their faces. Still pondering the Elders’ dialogue, Jag heard murmurs of uncertainty and concern from the people as they left the square. He empathized with them. How were they to make sense of Hutar saving Nageau’s life when he’d attempted to kill all the Elders the previous summer? Add to that Aesròn’s escape from the valley and it was no wonder they were troubled.

  Then there was the matter of something the Elders had said during the gathering that had left Jag unsettled.

  “I hope it isn’t true,” he murmured.

  “What?” Kody asked, turning around to warm his back.

  “That because Reyor now knows about us and our connection to Dema-Ki, the village might be in the crosshairs.”

  “It’s not because of us,” Aari corrected. “It’s because the Elders are aware of Reyor, and Reyor is aware that they’re aware. It’s no longer a secret that Dema-Ki is actively engaged in thwarting Phoenix’s plans. Guess it’s only prudent to be prepared for any eventualities.”

  Mariah exhaled loudly. “You guys speak that name so freely.”

  “What name?” Aari asked.

  “You know who!”

  “What is this? A He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named moment?”

  Kody clutched his chest as if having a heart attack. “No, please, don’t say the Dark Lord’s name!”

  Jag could tell Mariah was biting back a smile. “You know the people around here don’t really like hearing it,” she said.

  “We’re the only ones here right now, ’Riah,” Aari replied. “But alright.”

  Jag traced the path of a minute piece of burning ash as it floated upward. His amber eyes followed the glowing orange speck as it travelled to the gazebo’s ceiling. A quote from Leo Tolstoy that Mariah shared with him some weeks back returned to him, as it often did since he first heard it: “There is something in the human spirit that will survive and prevail. There is a tiny and brilliant light burning in the heart of man that will not go out no matter how dark the world becomes.”

  He glanced over at Mariah. She seemed lost in contemplation. Tegan, too, had retreated into her thoughts. He smiled slightly. It was amazing watching them grow over the years, to see how they were both developing into their own persons.

  Tegan was the quieter one but had grown to command respect from others for her tenacity. Her penetrating gray, almost silver, eyes would sweep a room, observing everything and everyone with a sharpshooter’s astuteness. Mariah was all spunk yet cautious, and she enjoyed retreating into a fortress of books, stories that took her to other worlds and great adventures. Together, the two could be a force to be reckoned with—like the time they’d commandeered a four-hundred-ton mining truck to escape their abductors. Jag was still awed by that story.

  Aari, standing across the pit from him, tightened the drawstrings of his hoodie. “I wonder how things are at home. It sucks that we haven’t been able to talk to our families for . . . how long has it been? Two and a half months now?”

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” Kody said, fidgeting with his ball cap. “Worried sick, but fine.”

  “That’s quite the oxymoron, Kode-man.”

  “You’re the oxymoron . . . moron . . .”

  Tegan yawned. “As much as I’d love to stick around for more brilliance from Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd, I’d like to turn in. It’s been a long day.”

  Mariah nodded. “Me too.”

  “Aw,” Kody pouted. “I thought we could all head over to Huyani’s and hang out with her and Akol for a bit.”

  “Tomorrow. Promise.”

  Jag pulled Tegan and Mariah in for a hug. “Rest well, you two.”

  They smiled, bid the boys goodnight and headed to their neyra across the river. Once they were out of earshot, Kody whispered, “Guys night!”

  Jag slung his arms around his friends’ necks and together, they made their way up the valley to meet Huyani and Akol.

  * * *

  Tegan fell into her bed without changing and was out within a heartbeat. Mariah removed her friend’s boots and covered her with her blanket, then quickly donned her own pajamas. She turned off one lamp, keeping the other lit, before rummaging through her heavy backpack. She’d filled it with everything she needed from home—her essentials, a large yellow envelope containing photos, and her phone and charger. In retrospect, bringing her phone along might have been useless, but it did give her comfort.

  She’d also crammed in as many books as she could, alongside an extra journal and plenty of pens. In a small pocket of the bag was a bottle of cologne that belonged to her father before her parents’ separation and his subsequent passing after a battle with cancer. The bottle was almost empty, but anytime she felt alone she’d pull the cap open, inhale the scent and reunite with him in her memories.

  She was tempted to reach for it but instead grabbed a pen and withdrew to her bed. Picking up her journal, she scribbled in small, neat writing the events of the day. When she finished, she flipped to one particular entry.

  It was agonizing to look over the events of the week after Nageau’s visit with the friends’ parents at the Sanchez house. Equally difficult was the memory of the meeting itself. Mariah rested her head on her pillow and closed her eyes as her mind wandered involuntarily to that fateful afternoon, recalling every detail as if it happened only moments ago.

  The Elder’s stately presence filled the room as he addressed the parents. To Mariah, the familiar scent of forest pine elicited entrancing memories of Dema-Ki.

  The families were seated on couches and chairs against each side of the living room. Jag had offered Nageau his family’s heritage leather chair at a corner of the room usually reserved for special guests and family members, earning questioning looks from his parents.

  Marshall Sawyer, who’d brought the Elder to the Sanchez home, stood behind Aari with folded arms. A former Marine with a short beard and dirty-blond hair, he was an American-based Sentry who had worked closely with the friends over the summer as they fought the blight that destroyed crops across North America.

  Jag rubbed his hands nervously. “Uh, everyone, I’d like you to meet Marshall”—he motioned at the Sentry with his head—“and Elder Nageau.”

  Nageau smiled disarmingly from where he sat on the leather chair, and in a rich, accented voice said, “I am sure you have many questions as to who I am and why I am here. Please allow me to put those questions to rest. My name is Nageau, and my home is a remote village qui
te far north of here. My people nursed your sons and daughters back to health after their aircraft crashed near our valley over a year ago.”

  Aari’s father, stunned, asked, “They . . . they were with you all those months?”

  Nageau nodded, glacial blue eyes sweeping over each parent. The hush that followed was thunderous to Mariah’s ears.

  “I’m lost for words.” Roberto Sanchez, a spitting image of Jag, turned to his son and placed a hand behind his head with the look of alarm only a parent could possess.

  “I must tell you,” Nageau continued carefully, “that the healing of your children was not all that took place during their time with us, nor was their accident a completely random event.”

  Mariah’s foot tapped a rapid beat. Nageau’s actually gonna talk about it. Ohhh, my goodness.

  Tegan noticed the tapping and put a hand on her knee to stop her.

  Mariah watched the adults as the Elder recounted, with some help from the teenagers, the full story, from the moment the friends were brought to Dema-Ki to their training and the Battle of Ayen’et, to suppressing their memories and their trip to California that turned into a mission to stop the crop destruction.

  He then went on to explain some of the history of his people, as well as the prophecy that foretold a coming global conflict. The parents listened in muted shock. Kody’s father, who had piloted the plane that crashed, sat with his hands clasped together against his forehead.

  Turning to what Mariah figured was the final proof in his arsenal, Nageau called on the friends to demonstrate their abilities. Aari, hesitant, directed the assembly’s attention to the large television and made it disappear from sight part by part. Mariah chose to believe that the yelps from their families were of amazement.

  When it was her turn, she pointed at the coffee table and levitated it. At this point, she was surprised that her own mother hadn’t fainted, though she did seem on the brink. The other teenagers followed suit, each demonstration quicker than the one before.

  “As you can see,” Nageau said once some semblance of calm had returned, “your children have extraordinary gifts.”

  “Apparently,” Mrs. Barnes whispered, staring at her son. Aari gave an awkward smile.

  “There is one more thing—a very important finding—that I would like to share with you.” The Elder swung his gaze to the friends. “This is something that is essential for you to know as well, younglings. As you are aware, the Elders are conscious that a certain individual is behind the attacks that we have seen around the world. All we had was a vague feeling of who this person might be since we had no concrete evidence. Until recently, that is. Now we know with certainty the identity of this individual.”

  The teenagers stirred. Jag had mentioned to them that Nageau reached out to him after the nanomite ordeal and revealed that their enemy was someone who had been exiled from Dema-Ki.

  “This person,” Nageau said, “this harbinger of darkness, holds a twisted view filled with deep hatred for humanity, and is plotting its demise. The horrific events that we have witnessed across the planet in the past several months were initiated by this—”

  “Sorry to cut in,” Aari’s father interrupted, “but if you’re so sure about who it is, then we should go to the authorities and let them deal with this murderous psychopath. Why do we and our children have to be involved with this mess?”

  “The authorities must not be brought in,” Nageau responded sharply. The parents were taken aback. “There is far more to this individual that you need to understand. There is an artifact known to my people as the lathe’ad. Five of these devices were found by our ancestors on our island a long time ago. No one knows for sure where they came from, but for some reason we were intuitively able to decipher their capabilities and came to understand that the lathe’ad is an exceedingly powerful device, capable of creation and destruction on a planetary scale. It has the potential to, how do you say . . . terraform worlds. In the hands of a person with the right knowledge and ability, the lathe’ad could become biologically linked to the bearer. Once that link is established, no one except the bearer is able to sever it. One of these devices is now in the possession of this individual.”

  “Why would anyone want to link with the la . . . the lath . . . that thing?” Mariah’s mother asked.

  “Because it works as a deterrent. Should the bearer be harmed or killed, the lathe’ad will sense the disruption in the flow of energy in the host’s body and its destructive power will be unleashed on the planet. And if the bearer chooses, he or she could activate the device with a mere thought.”

  Kody’s father looked horrified. “Are you saying that this . . . this person is a living, breathing WMD capable of an extinction-level event?”

  “Yes. And that is why the authorities cannot be involved. They are not equipped to handle this situation. Any debilitating attack on this individual will be countered by the lathe’ad in accordance with its internal code, and it will wreak nothing but devastation in its purest form.”

  Everyone had gone still. Mariah swallowed and looked down at her toes. That would have been really good to know earlier on, Elder Nageau.

  Jag’s father rested a hand on his face, head shaking. “Then how can this person be stopped? It’s an impossible situation.”

  “There is only one way to end this peril,” the Elder said. “From our prophecy, we know who can put a stop to this, but we are still trying to ascertain how it will be done.”

  “What do you mean?” Tegan’s mother asked.

  “The five Bearers of Light.” Nageau cocked an eyebrow at the teenagers. “They have been appointed by the prophecy for a reason. They are the only ones armed with the capability to disrupt the symbiotic connection between our foe and the lathe’ad and eliminate this threat. As to how it will be done, we are confident that will come to light soon. Be assured, the Elders are working to decipher the prophecy.”

  “Why our kids?” Mariah’s mother demanded.

  “Because,” Nageau answered gently, “the prophecy deems it so. With their abilities combined, they will be the ones to stop the catalyst at the center of this storm.”

  Mariah could see the sheen of unshed tears in her mother’s eyes. “But why them? Out of the seven billion people on this planet?” Her voice cracked. “Why our kids?”

  Nageau’s demeanor softened further, his visage showing deep compassion. “Some things in life are carved by the hands of destiny. We are not always able to understand the reasons behind these occurrences, but time has a way of unlocking the wisdom within. We are called upon to have faith. Just as we have faith in the rising of the sun at dawn, we must believe that darkness cannot prevail, for truly, darkness is but the absence of light. The Bearers of Light are preordained to cast away the storm gathering on our horizon.” He took in the concerned, uncertain faces before him. “But in order to fulfil their destined roles, they need to continue their training with us. With that in mind, I would like to ask for your children to return with me to Dema-Ki so that they may complete their preparation.”

  Nageau’s request was met by stony looks. Mariah sat anxiously, not daring to speak. The Elder let the silence stretch for a few moments, then graciously dipped his head to conclude the meeting. He rose to his feet, unfurling his six-foot five-inch frame. Marshall moved to his side. Before leaving, the Elder added, “This is a very important decision. Perhaps the most important one that you will make in your life. I understand you will need time to reflect upon such a weighty consideration. With your permission I will return in one week to inquire about your choice. My gratitude to each and every one of you for granting me this audience.”

  The two men left the room that was engulfed in what was the most nerve-wrecking stillness Mariah had ever experienced.

  The topic wasn’t addressed as a group until the parents met to discuss the situation two days later. Most were opposed to the notion in varying degrees, Mariah’s mother being the one most staunchly against letting her only
child go. They didn’t want their sons and daughters to be taken away and put directly in the path of danger. Some of the other parents were on uncertain ground.

  They struggled with Nageau’s proposition and scrambled for reasons to keep their children home and safe. The most convincing reason they could think of was education, but even if they had unanimously decided to keep their offspring at home to attend their senior year of high school, it would have been in vain. The start of the school year had been indefinitely delayed due to the growing social unrest across the state.

  All factors considered, it was ultimately the problem of the lathe’ad and the small comfort in knowing that the teenagers would be in good hands that made them eventually, though unenthusiastically, shift their stance. When the seventh day came around, it was a miserable twenty-four hours. The goodbyes were extremely difficult for the families. Mariah hadn’t been able to stop sobbing. At that moment it didn’t matter what lay ahead; the last thing she wanted was to leave her mother all alone.

  Mariah opened her eyes, slammed her journal shut and shoved it under her pillow. She bit her lip. That was the one thing that constantly hurt the most to think about; her poor mother, the woman who cared for her and loved her unconditionally, languishing by herself in their apartment.

  She turned off the lamp and, as she curled in bed, thought, I may not be there with you right now, but you’re not alone. I’ll see you again, not too long from now. She breathed out slowly. I love you, Momma.

  7

  For the past forty-eight hours in their studio apartment in Swansea, the Vaughn twins had been monitoring the news and scouring the Internet. Since they moved around so much, the place was furnished simply, with a bed, a pull-out sofa, a dining table with two chairs, and a small television.

  At the table, Deverell had several tabs open on his laptop, each with different search results for terms such as ‘progeria’, ‘accelerated aging’, and ‘progeroid symptoms’. Nothing quite matched what they’d seen at the hospital, but a trending social media topic in Wales was also gaining some momentum across the United Kingdom, France and Belgium. The Welsh called it marwolaeth, or “the death.” The other countries used variations of the word, and the messages were often accompanied by images of people stricken by the disease.