by D. N. Leo
They wore plain clothes. Civilians. He felt relieved.
“Could I have some water, please?” he said, hoping they’d understand.
The woman who took care of him nodded. She brought him some water and helped him drink. That was when he realized his left arm was broken and his right shoulder was dislocated. They had been secured with cloth bandages and pieces of wood for a splint. His legs were broken, too.
“Thank you. What’s your name?” he asked after he finished with the water.
“Mai.”
The boy came over holding a spoon and something in a bowl.
“Oh no, you’re not going to spoon-feed me, are you?”
Mai smiled, looking like she didn’t understand what he’d said. He figured their English was limited. He looked at the food and shook his head. Mai took the bowl from the boy and scowled at him. She picked up the spoon and did exactly what he had been afraid she’d do. She fed him as if he were a baby.
That night, he rested. He had never felt so at peace in his life, even before he had enlisted. Next to his cot, the group of women and children gathered around, listening to stories told by an elderly woman. He didn’t understand a word of what they said. But he did know that none of what was going on around him reflected the brutality of the war that raged just a few miles away.
A few days later, his mind was clear, but he wasn’t any better physically. His wounds were infected, and he knew he needed medical attention.
One morning, he was awakened by the sound of an argument. A group of men stood quarreling with Mai, and the boy who always brought him food and water stood next to her. The men didn’t wear military clothing, but they carried guns, knives, and grenades.
The older man in the group moved toward him. Mai grabbed him, but he pushed her away. He pulled the blanket away and picked up his dog tags.
“Lieutenant Cole,” he read then said, “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Do I look like I can cause you any trouble?”
The man lifted him by his shoulder the moved aside so he could see the people gathered in front of him. There were more than twenty civilians, mainly women and children. “We’re in hiding,” the man said. “We don’t fight. We want only to live.”
“I can’t speak for the VCs. But my Marines don’t harm civilians.”
“Your people might not. But your weapons can’t tell the difference.” Then he said something to Mai, and she rushed over and placed her palm on his forehead.
“I’ll take you to your people,” Mai said.
“No, please, don’t do that…” Cole knew the danger they’d face when they approached the US armed forces. But she didn’t listen to him.
There was another round of intense argument. Mai turned toward her people and said something. Four of them raised their hands. The next thing he knew, he was being carried on a makeshift stretcher by four women, traveling fast through the thick jungle. Mai moved ahead, surveying the way and using her hands to signal whether it was safe for the women to proceed.
Cole wanted to speak to her, but she wasn’t close enough. Mai was on a mission, and she was too determined for him to convince her to do otherwise.
He knew what she was trying to do. She was taking him across the firing line of the two armies so that his men could find him. The older man was right—the Marines wouldn’t harm civilians, but a remote-controlled weapon couldn’t discriminate between a civilian and a soldier.
At the edge of the forest, they set him down. Mai signaled for the women to run back into the thick jungle. She approached him, saying in English, “They won’t fire here at his time because your men will come here soon. The VCs don’t know this, and we won’t tell. Your men will not be ambushed. Take care.” She squeezed his hand lightly.
“Don’t go back, Mai. My troops won’t harm you when they see you’re a civilian.”
She shook her head and smiled at him. “I helped you because you were injured and needed me. You are just like us—someone who wants to survive. But I can’t stand by you when you’re a soldier. I won’t take a side in this war.”
He watched her small shadow running back to join her people.
Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a missile launch from a faraway base. The weapon had detected movement in the jungle and had set a target for attack while he lay there helpless. Soon the people who had saved his life, people who wanted no part of the war, would be blown to pieces.
Chapter Nineteen
“I can walk faster than this, Gale!” Lyla hopped off the cart and strode ahead. The donkey had been galloping, and she knew it wasn’t fair to say it was slow, given the small animal was doing the job of a horse. But her instincts were telling her that Michael was in trouble, and thus she needed a Eudaizian spaceship to get to him, not an earthly animal-powered vehicle.
Gale hopped off the cart. He gave the donkey a pat on its backside, sending it running back to the village. He squinted his eyes, looking at Lyla. “You’ve used your Eudaizian energy to hasten the healing process.”
“Yes, Gale. It’s dangerous to use my Eudaizian energy now, but the situation called for it. I think you should go back to the village and ready the portal access for us. We need to get back home as soon I finish this.”
Gale chuckled, keeping pace right behind Lyla. “Since when is our friendship without danger?”
Lyla stopped and turned around. “What do you mean? We’ve hardly met. You live and work in the Daimon Gate. I live in Eudaiz. Beating you in the chess game and hurting your ego was the most dangerous situation I’ve ever put you in, Gale.”
She waited for his answer. She needed him to slow down a development in his brain, a part she didn’t want triggered. She hoped she was just being overly cautious. She didn’t need another issue right now, not with this mission already going pear-shaped.
Gale grinned. “The ego is the most precious asset of all the species in the multiverse! So yeah, at some point I’m going to have to take back my damaged pride from playing chess with you. But our friendship is indeed dangerous, Lyla. Whenever you stop by the Daimon Gate to see me, disaster happens.”
“I paid for the damage.”
“Well, previously, it wasn’t serious. Just some spaceships ruined here and there by your experiments. But this time, something is toying with the multiverse, Lyla.”
“This mission has nothing to do with our relationship. You know that, right? I didn’t want to put you in danger, Gale. Had I known—”
“Lyla, I’m not scared or anything. I do have questions that I’ll sort out later, but what I need you to realize is that the mission you’re on might not be just a quick-fix project anymore. The way my station exploded—and people died—I think something big is coming our way. We might need to call for help, and by that, I mean I think we might need to report this and engage central—”
“And that’s what I just said. You should go back to the village and get the portal ready—"
“But I can’t leave you alone …”
“I can take care of myself.”
“So can Michael. He asked us to stay in the village. What if he comes back to the village just fine, but you and I are captured here?”
“Captured by whom?”
“I don’t know, Lyla—”
She gestured for Gale to be quiet. She had seen a movement among the trees about fifty feet away. Whatever it was, it might want to attack the two of them, but she didn’t think it would be a strong opponent. If it were, it would have attacked already rather than hide in the small shrubs.
Still, she didn’t want to turn her back on it. Through her teeth, she said, “Got your gun, Gale?”
Gale saw what she saw. He shook his head and spoke under his breath. “It’s in the cart with the donkey.”
“Can you signal the chip you put on the donkey to make it come back?”
“You’re asking for a lot, Lyla!”
“All right, let me handle this.” She moved forward, facing whatever was
hiding in the bush. “Come out, we won’t hurt you.”
Gale pulled her back and stepped in front of her. Lyla didn’t want to have another ego-related discussion with Gale, and she didn’t think whatever it was they were facing was too dangerous, so she let Gale take charge.
“Come out!” Gale said in a stern voice.
Lyla rolled her eyes. That ought to help the situation, she thought.
A stunning woman dressed in a long black gown stepped out of the bush. She had long white hair and striking gray eyes. If it had been a space creature, Gale would have charged at it without hesitation. But Lyla could tell Gale didn’t know what to do in this situation.
“I mean you no harm,” the woman said. Her voice was soft, smooth, and distant.
“What do you want from us?” Lyla asked.
“Are you looking for your friends? There was a couple running onto our land. The man looked a bit like you.” The woman pointed at Gale.
“No way do we look alike!” Gale grumbled. “And if you’re thinking of trapping us, remember that there are two of us and only one of you.”
The woman smiled. “I meant that he looked Caucasian, like you. My knowledge of Western culture may be limited, but I know men treat women with respect. You won’t fight me because you’re a gentleman. That makes the fight, if there is any, between us women.”
“I can tell you don’t have an immediate intention to harm us. So I ask again, what do you want?” Lyla said.
“I saw your friends being captured. We’ve occupied this stretch of the woods in peace for a long time, and we don’t care for disturbances. Your friends brought strangers to our land. They captured your friends, but they camped here on the mountain. I just want them to go away.”
“Who are you?” Lyla asked.
The woman smiled and pulled aside her white hair, revealing a small mark at the corner of her forehead. “I’m a witch who lives in this forest.”
Lyla had turned on her Eudaizian powers earlier to heal her injuries. If she were going to be tracked, it would have happened already. So she decided to take a chance and turn on her internal microchip, one that she used only in emergencies. She scanned quickly for the definition of witch. The system gave her a quick definition: “A witch is a person who practices witchcraft or magic.”
She cursed inwardly. She had been doing research on Earth’s paranormal creatures, but she had not yet touched the subject of magic. She wanted to clear her throat but refrained from doing so because it would show hesitation—a weakness. She nodded. “I see. You want to take me to where my friend was captured so that I can rescue him and make the strangers leave your woods?”
“Yes, please. We want only peace.”
“How can you be sure we’re not one of those bad guys?” Gale asked.
The woman smiled. “As I said, you and your friends are alike. You have the spirit of good people. My best skill as a witch is the ability to tell the difference between good and bad spirits.”
Lyla nodded. “All right, take me to my friend. Just so you know, I’m a very good fighter.”
The woman nodded. “I wouldn’t expect any less.” She led the way, and Lyla and Gale followed.
Before she even saw the scene, Lyla knew. Her knees felt weak. She had told herself not to be a fool, not to show weakness in front of a stranger and possible adversary. But a tear must have rolled down her face, and she felt Gale’s hand grabbing hers.
In front of them, the bushland opened to a space that had been cleared by fire. She couldn’t feel any heat, but judging by the pile of bones and ashes covering the ground, it must have been like an incinerator here. There was no way Michael could have survived this. Not even a Eudaizian Silver Blood commander could survive such devastation.
Chapter Twenty
Michael opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t make out the shape of anything.
"Is this hell?” he asked no one in particular. The echo of his voice and the vibration of the sound moving through this throat assured him he was very much alive. He moved his arms, stretching and flexing his arm muscles, and could feel a cold surface rubbing against his skin.
The sensation of the cold and damp rock-like surface sent a chill up his spine. The stench of rotting organic vegetation engulfed him. He figured this was as good as he could expect—at least he hadn’t awakened on top of—or worse, under—a pile of rotting dead bodies. The last thing he remembered was the blinding blast, which he was sure would have killed some, if not all, of the creatures in the woods.
Better alive than dead. He would be of no use to Lyla if he died here.
Michael sat up. He was free of any restrains, he contemplated, so he mustn’t have been captured.
He glanced around, looking for a shape—something, anything—as he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness.
He heard the faint noise of footsteps and the humming sound of chanting. It couldn’t be coming from the same space. Although he couldn’t see anything, he would surely feel the presence of others with him here. But the air was musty, thick, and lifeless.
It felt as if he was in a cave. The chanting seemed to come from a far corner. He stood and walked very slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, trying not to stumble on anything and make noise.
In a short while, his hands touched the cave wall. He worked his way toward where the sound seemed more prominent. That was when his fingertips touched a thick, soft fabric. It felt like some kind of material, but it couldn’t have been a normal curtain because the material seemed … alive. Michael swore he felt it move.
He staggered back a few steps and was relieved he didn’t trip on anything. He didn’t approach the breathing wall again but stood still to take inventory. What had happened before in the bush? Where was Jaxper? He remembered the flash and the sensation that came afterward.
It was as if his life had been sucked out of him in an instant.
Did that mean he had the power? The power—or whatever it was—that Jaxper had mentioned before? Regardless of whether what Jaxper had said was true—or whether it was evil, and he was afraid it might be exactly that—it had gotten him out of jail. What if he needed to pull that stunt again? Michael inhaled. He remembered the thought he’d had just before the blast. It was almost a curse, a desire to burn the creatures attacking them in the bush.
Could I do that again?
Michael didn’t believe he could will a blast with a thought. That was a source of power Ciaran and only a couple of commanders in Eudaiz possessed. Michael knew he didn’t have that kind of mind power.
He’d lived his life believing in what his mother called a recursive spell. He didn’t want to believe it, but that was all that was left of his mother. And in rage and self-defense, he had used it against his stepfather.
And the spell had worked. It had sent Ciaran to kill his stepfather.
But what happened in the woods hadn’t been magic. It was what Lyla had called the dark corner of his mind. It was his ability to burn living creatures into ashes if he wanted to do so.
He realized now that it wasn’t just a sensation he felt after the blast—it was the energy leaving him. He must have used his inner strength to will the power he didn’t know he had to burn their way out of danger. It was as physical and real as it could be. If he needed to use that power again, he knew what to do. He also knew that he would lose his strength after each blow.
Happy with this explanation of his situation, he approached the curtain again. He touched it, and it was responsive to his touch, like someone’s skin. He found what felt like the edge of the curtain, a frame of some sort. He dug his fingers in deeper. There, a crack formed and made its way down, and the curtain parted, revealing a compartment. The chanting sound was certainly louder here. He pulled the curtain aside just enough to squeeze his body through.
In front of him was a long dimly lit cave. At the far corner, he saw the faint outline of a woman kneeling in front of a low stone bench. On
the bench were bowls, jars, dried herbs, and several objects he couldn’t identify. His instincts told him she was a witch, not that he knew exactly what a witch was supposed to look like.
She wore a long white cloak. The light was so poor he couldn’t tell if her hair was gray or white. She chanted softly, her hands hovering over a bowl. At that moment, Michael saw that the woman was holding the chain and charm his mother had given him.
“That stone charm is mine.”
The woman didn’t startle. She put the charm on the table then turned around slowly and graciously. She was beautiful. Michael had seen angels before, and this woman’s beauty was of that caliber. But she wasn’t an angel. Michael knew that without a doubt. She lacked the angelic light and aura, and most importantly, there was something about her that was inherently dark.
“If it’s yours, claim it.”
Michael approached with caution. The woman remained where she was, but the stone table moved out of his reach. He inched closer. The table moved farther away and turned at the corner of the room.
“I’m not going to chase that table. I know you’re controlling it, lady. This isn’t a game. I have places to be, and you don’t want to try my temper.”
“I understand. I saw what happened in the woods when something toyed with your temper.”
Michael turned and looked at the woman. “Where’s Jaxper?”
She smiled. “Thank you for your concern about my daughter. She is fine and is resting.”
Michael nodded. That made sense to him. Jaxper had attempted to call her mother before he’d used his power. “I suppose you know what happened in the woods. You saw what my power can do. Give me back my stone charm, and then we’ll talk.” He approached the table as he spoke—and the table slid away once more.