by P. G. Thomas
“That would mean you would have to follow her!”
“I know, but it may be the only way. First chance I get, I will sneak away.”
“Not by yourself,” protested Hope.
“You need to keep them distracted, so they do not know I am missing.”
“No, we both go, or I will tell them!”
Knowing she would, he agreed, being uncertain what deal he had just made, or how upset it would make their father. Then both shimmered, transformed into otters, and snuggled into the blankets.
*******
The next morning Ryan apologized to Gayne for his actions, but when Lauren asked her husband to go to the vote with her, while he declined politely, his eyes protested with anger. Pleading with him, he still refused, and then Lauren pushed too hard.
The anger returned. “NO! If the vote goes sour, this could be our last chance. Mirtza, either give me the amulet or bring it forth, I don’t care. Sam, Hope, go change.”
Steve shook his head, taking one last drink of bean juice, wondering how long this day would be.
As Ryan followed Mirtza to the stable, Lauren turned to Eric and Logan. “Eric, can you go with them? He’s so angry, and I need Logan at the vote, to stop it.”
Nodding, Eric headed to his room for his sword, realizing he would need help if a rage storm exploded in front of him. If the new Bastard in town was going to cause trouble, he wanted a storm of his own.
“Gayne, I would like to leave for the vote now, so if something goes wrong, we can make new arrangements,” advised Lauren. “Please, bring any magic you can, so we have as many options available as possible.”
Returning to the ground level, John was surprised to see how short the staff now was. Then Gayne went to the stable to bring forth a large coach that Lauren entered, followed by her Granite Guardians and their blood wolves. John, offering to sit beside Logan as he drove, needed time to formulate a possible hypothesis about the staff that seemed to be without limits, but definitely limited in its capacity. After Gayne had negotiated himself a window seat, he removed a bracelet, dropped a medallion through it, and Logan smacked the reins of the magical horses. On the other side of the portal, they arrived at a deserted section of the north docks, and then from inside the carriage, the schoolteacher called out instructions to the council house. An hour later, when they arrived, the lines to get in were already beginning to form.
They had informed Lauren how the Darkpaye council had segregated the building, and that those from Darkpaye always arrived last. Opening the carriage door, she stepped out and looked at Logan. “If you think the vote will pass, please stop it, but try not to hurt—do what you have to do and stop it.”
John climbed down, “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”
“What I want is that vote to fail,” Lauren replied, “and since I can’t be there, you three all need to be.”
John scanned the busy streets, “What happens if somebody—”
“Go, I can look after myself.”
Through the carriage window, John saw two of the Guardians examining the streets for threats, and he followed Gayne and Logan, taking the long way around the building to avoid the Calicon prohibited zone.
Chapter 27
After entering the carriage, Lauren focused on the large multi-level building on the opposite side of the street, grasping her staff with both hands, she closed her eyes in deep concentration, watching the image of the wooden structure forming in her mind. Even though she was uncertain if her plan would work, the building was wood, and in principle, used to be one of Mother’s children. Hoping it would hear the Earth Bond, she sent the magic forward; those from Darkpaye shall not enter. Sensing the outer doors warping, the wooden windows swelling, she continued watching the building with the image active in her mind.
*******
When Gayne, John, and Logan arrived at the other side of the Council Hall, a large crowd had already formed—or as John thought, an angry mob without pitchforks and torches. For over an hour, they tried to maintain their position in the crowd, and as more gathered behind and around them, the entire mass began to undulate from side to side, back to front.
“Something is wrong since they should have let us in by now,” advised Gayne.
It was not an observation that needed an explanation, as the crowd was becoming more vocal, and those at the back were trying to get closer, causing more to push forward. With chants of ‘let us in’ beginning to grow in volume, the pressure from behind began to increase. Then, as if somebody had dropped a bottle of a pressurized carbonated liquid, the internal forces exceeded the restraining mechanism, allowing the crowd to gush forward. John felt Gayne grab him by his neck, blended in with the flow, trying to stay upright, as he avoided stepping on those who had been knocked over. Once inside, they quickly fell into place with the flowing mass heading to the balconies, but instead of stopping at the lower levels, Gayne guided them to the top. Being the first to arrive, John led them to seats in the front row so that not only would they have the best view, but also if a fire did break out, there would be no crowds to crush them. As he scanned the opposite and lower balconies, he realized a crushing death still might be a possibility, as each balcony was loaded beyond capacity. In a space designed to hold fifteen hundred people, he quickly calculated that the volume exceeded the capacity by twice, and he was uncertain if the entire structure would remain standing. The residual noise in the large chamber began to build, as those present tried to make their words heard over the growing sounds. As the volume increased, so did the temperature in more ways than one. Pushing matches and fights began to break out on all of the levels, but because the crowds were so congested, security was unable to eject those responsible, and Gayne wondered if they had even tried to enter the building.
John felt like he was at a concert for a new pop group, screaming into Gayne’s ear, “WHEN DOES THE VOTE START?” He never heard the question, as the increasing multitudes of thousands of loud conversations consumed it.
When the Calicon anger united, a chant began, “VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!”
John began to wonder if the anger in their words and tone would create a resonating frequency in the building, which would do more than just end the vote. Then a door opened on the lower level, and a timid Calicon counselor did a quick jerky dance into the chamber; John figuring he was pushed out. The mood in the angry crowd began to change, and applause amplifying from the upper levels soon filled the hall. With that, more Calicon councilors bravely entered the arena of votes and took their seats. While he realized that it may have been a juvenile form of democracy, the people of Calicon had found a way to raise their voices, and he doubted if any Darkpaye councilors would show their faces.
Then one did, and when he raised his hands, the crowd went quiet. The lone councilor called out, “The vote today has been postponed.”
Before he could continue, the crowd began chanting for the vote.
Outside the building, even though Lauren smiled while she observed the Darkpaye Watch trying to pry the doors open, she kept channeling the magic from the staff into the building.
The crowd in the upper levels went quiet when Rimple stood. “We came here today, to vote on the segregation of the Bright Coast, and we have waited long enough for all councilors to take their seats, so I now call for the vote. Do any support it?” None of the Calicon members did or said anything, but the lone Darkpaye man raised his hand, knowing it was a feeble protest. As the crowd booed him, Rimple held up his hands, calling for quiet. “All those who oppose this vote,” then paused, waiting long enough for the history of the Bright Coast to write his most glorious moment into the records. When he felt the crowd was about to burst over the railings, he spoke. “All those who oppose, please stand.” In truth, while only two needed to act to defeat the motion, over ninety percent of the Calicon councilors stood. Then John felt the joyful embrace from Gayne when the crowd burst out in cheers.
While history may have re
corded Rimple’s final words, the cheers of the crowd washed over them in epic proportions, “The motion is defeated.”
It took three hours for Gayne, Logan, and John to navigate their passage out of the building and back to the carriage to a smiling Lauren. Watching the news erupt from the building for several hours, she required no verbal confirmation of what had transpired. John, however, also saw the pile of ash at the staff base, and he quickly calculated its new height. I need to talk to her.
That night they waited for those who rode the SHET wagon to arrive before starting the evening meal. Even though that was the plan, after an hour, the wine was warm, and the food was cold. When the front door did finally open, Sam and Hope ran to their room, transforming into otters, and no amount of coaxing from John would make them revert to human form, but the voices from the front room quickly made him change his focus.
Eric’s voice echoed throughout the house, “I’ll hold him, and you knock some sense into him.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” answered Steve.
Lauren slammed her staff into the floor, “What the hell is happening?”
“Damn Kid, he’s screwing everything up. He almost had us arrested today.”
“Ryan,” Lauren pleaded, “what’s wrong?”
While his back was to the group, they heard the anger in his voice, “Our daughters are lost out there, and nobody but me seems to care.”
They could all see the resentment in Lauren’s eyes, “You Bastard!”
“What did I do?” asked Logan.
They all felt the hurt in Lauren’s voice, “You can sleep on the couch,” and then she ran up to her room.
Eric tried to reach out to his frustrated friend, “We need to be like a team, all going in the same direction.”
[Online. Analyze. Emotional conflict. Safeties. Not present. Assume control. Executive override issued. Abort. Abort. Abort.] The words Ryan spoke were hollow, “I always preferred solo sports.”
“Ryan, we’re doing everything we can,” began John, but he never had a chance to finish his sentence.
“It’s not enough.” When Ryan turned, they saw the rage burning in his eyes; the magic was back.
Steve watched as Ryan’s clothes began to meld into his skin, transforming into stone, and he turned to Eric, “You’re up, champ.”
Eric knew that Fury had gifted him with strength, but he also knew that Ryan had defeated him the last time they were here, as Ryan had reminded him every year of the arm wrestling match. “This is wrong, and you need to calm down.”
“I’m tired of wrongs, and I want to make something right,” and Ryan increased in size.
Steve whispered, “Lauren.”
Eric focused his gaze on Ryan, “Think of Lauren, would she want you to—”
“Move, I’m going to find my daughters,” ordered Ryan.
Eric held up his hands, “You can’t do this!”
“Try to stop me.”
John recalled the books on sleep disorders that he had read, and the parts of the brain responsible for making the necessary chemicals to combat that medical condition. Sensing the magic, he sent an image of a brain identifying those areas that manufactured the elements, tasking the magic to flood Ryan’s brain with the desired substances. It was a simple enough process that he hoped the magic would be able to understand, but he was uncertain what would happen next if his magic was unable to defeat the machine.
[Run Diagnostics.] Ryan took another step forward, started to look around the room, and then fell flat on his face, sound asleep.
“What just happened?” asked Steve.
Reaching for a warm bottle of honey wine, John chugged from it, like he was at a frat party. “I put him to sleep, but I’ve no idea on what will happen tomorrow.”
“Well, maybe we can restrain him,” suggested Steve.
“Last time somebody did that,” advised Eric, “he broke the restraints, the bed, and almost broke the stairs from what I was told.”
Descending Rage, yeah I remember. What? Steve looked at Eric, “Back in Alron after they had captured Lauren?”
Eric just nodded.
John reached for a second bottle, popped the cork, and took another long drink, “If you restrain him, the rage might overtake the machine. It’s the first time he has re-booted, so let’s hope it’s the machine that controls the rage.”
“If not?” asked Steve.
John lowered himself into a dining room chair, “We are so screwed. Maybe if Eric, Logan, and I ganged up on him, we might be able to stop him, but you’ve no idea on how much attention it would get us.”
“Well, can’t you just keep putting him to sleep?” asked Steve.
“You don’t get it, there’s a machine inside of him, and right now, it’s most likely analyzing what just happened, determining a counter-measure. I listened to what he said over the last eight, I mean four years, whatever. There’s a process that operates at a different level, and I’ve no idea of what its capabilities are. If he was just worried about Lauren, that would be one thing, but he loves his daughters, and with everything that’s happening here, there are two possible endings: Three Mile Island or Chernobyl.”
“No third option?” asked Steve.
“Fukushima?”
“You could have stopped after the first four letters, Kid.”
John shook his head, “I’ll watch him for the first two hours, who wants the second watch?”
Logan raised his hand, and then Eric said he would take the last.
“What’re we doing?” asked Steve.
“If he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed,” advised Eric, “it would be better if we woke up at the same time. Third watch is yours.”
*******
The next morning, after Steve had groggily stumbled down the stairs, he entered the kitchen, but Ryan was absent. It looked like Eric had stayed awake since he was helping the kitchen staff with the meal, bringing out a pot of hot bean juice. Lauren took it from him, and she proceeded to fill mugs for Gayne, Mirtza, Logan, Steve, John, and Eric. Then she filled one more, and took it to the front room but returned immediately.
Steve grabbed his, taking a sip, “So what’s the good word?”
“He’s back to normal, just feeling a bit awkward,” advised Eric.
“While I can understand that, what does normal mean here and with him?” asked Steve.
“He’s still angry,” advised Lauren, “angry with this world, himself. Just angry at everything right now, but the magic is quiet.”
While he wanted to ask for how long, Steve thought it was best if he also remained quiet.
“Maybe he just needs a break, a day off,” suggested John.
Sam and Hope poked their heads around the kitchen door, and Lauren called them to her, “Uncle Ryan is just upset, and he’s not mad at you, okay?”
They nodded, taking a seat at the table, but remained quiet with one eye watching the front room.
“Maybe we should all concentrate on healing Mother,” Eric suggested, “instead of all of us running different plays. Lauren can create more Earth Daughters to help, but I think Steve is right, we need to focus on Mother.”
Lauren banged her mug down, “I know that, and if anybody can give me a hint on how to do it, please say it now or stay silent.” Sam and Hope both ran back to the study. “Sons of bitches,” She scanned the group, “That one thought has been consuming me ever since we talked with Tranquil, but I don’t know how to make the people here believe in Mother. I thought of issuing an Earth Bond to make them talk to her again, but if she is unable to bring forth her gifts or Earth Mothers, it all means nothing. Even if they call out to her, there’s nobody to answer the phone. I was hoping that by creating Earth Daughters, freed from the Sun, that they would be able to start spreading the word. From that, others would start to seek them out by calling to Mother, but if Darkpaye tried to detain the first ones, which I still don’t understand, what happens when I create more? As it is, that process i
s taking longer than I thought it would.”
Anger squared, but John remained silent.
Eric nodded, “Yeah, everything here always happens too fast or too slow.”
“Then what do we do?” asked Mirtza.
Lauren sighed, “I think tomorrow we should take Sam and Hope back, maybe see if Zack can join us since we can’t stop looking for my daughters. We crossed the Key yesterday using a portal, so today I want to look for them. Maybe if this dried up piece of wood gets close enough, it can sense them.”
Ryan shuffled into the kitchen, staring at the floor, “I would like to apologize to everybody for the way I’ve been acting.”
Gayne, wanting to get them out of his house before the next fight started, looked at Lauren, “A quick stop at the school, one at the pizzeria, and then we can go look for your daughters.”
*******
They had to take two carriages to the school. In the first, Gayne once again rode in the back with Lauren, the silent Ryan, and the Granite Guardians, but Eric with Logan sat on the front bench. This trip, however, was more pleasant and roomy, as Lauren had insisted the blood wolves stay behind. Mirtza drove the second, with John, Steve, Sam, and Hope inside it. While at the school, Steve used the opportunity to quickly inspect the root with John, and once he saw it, he was unable to believe how much it had grown since it now filled the entire pan. When John asked the student what he had been doing, the young lad repeated the instructions. He drained the water, and from the jug that John had identified, he filled the pan back up until the water was level with the top. It was then that John realized his mistake, as he had never told the student how much water to add. As he was staring at the root, wondering what metaphysical reactions could cause the organism to experience such a spectacular growth, he heard Steve call out.
“What’s with all of the salt?”
John walked over to the large tray, which obviously held salt crystals, the only by-product that remained after the water had evaporated, and he thought back to the yellow-tinged leaves in the forest. Saline, a high concentration of salt would kill the trees and plants. He thanked the student, telling him his work was done, and then they both returned to the carriage where the others waited.