Chronos and the Rogue Hunters

by Edward Eck

  “You’re only focusing on the bad parts. You did some good there too, you know,” commented Meagan with a smile. “It was your idea to use parasailing to beat Frederick Von Woonst to the Khazneh in Petra. You selected the correct pillar to open the door to the dark chamber and save Taryn. And you led the charge to save Amber in Babylon. Taryn and Amber might not be alive if it weren’t for you. Besides, we didn’t do so well in the Greek Underworld either. While Max did prevent Cerberus’ escape, he wound up being pulled through the ice mirror with Malcolm.”

  Cyrus knew Taryn and Vincent had already departed for Arizona in an attempt to find Max. Their only hope relied on Max truly being the immortal Chronos from Greek mythology. Otherwise, they were merely looking for his dead body.

  “Thanks,” sighed Cyrus as he stopped pacing and just stared at the targets. “Well, at least my aim’s improving. That’s better than what I did in practice before going to Babylon.”

  “How’s Amber doing?” inquired Meagan. “I haven’t seen her except for supper last evening, and she didn’t seem very talkative.”

  “Okay, I guess,” replied Cyrus. “She was still sleeping last time I checked on her.” Now he was becoming concerned about his sister, too. She didn’t normally sleep in this late and she had been quiet the evening before.

  “Well, lunch will be ready in about an hour.” Meagan turned to leave. “Oh, and you may want to consider a shower between now and then,” she added with a smile. She snapped her fingers and the door closed behind her, leaving Cyrus standing in the training room to ponder his sister’s solitude.

  He focused on his right hand and clenched his fist. Concentrating all his anger into that one moment he snapped around to face the target and let loose one last blast from the bracer. The fireball flew from the leather arm guard and slammed into the target just shy of dead center.

  When Cyrus returned to the New Circle room, he stopped in the middle to examine the crystal and found Max’s Scorpio sign still flickering off and on. The circular room contained five doors besides the entrance—one for each current member of the New Circle.

  He looked to one of them to find Max’s name scratched out like those of the Old Circle who had died. Normally if someone dies, their sign disappears from the crystal as well. Cyrus moved closer to Max’s door and inspected it again. Though the name was missing, the symbol remained. As it was explained to them by Gollnick and Elisa, it was the sign of Chronos from ancient Greek mythology. At least it gave them a little hope their friend was indeed still alive. He ran his hand over the etched symbol as he contemplated Max’s fate.

  Turning from the door, he approached Amber’s room and knocked. “You awake in there?” Cyrus placed an ear close to the door in hope his sister had finally decided to wake up.

  “Go away,” she replied quietly.

  It sounded like she had been crying. Cyrus became even more concerned as he reached for the door latch, but hesitated. He looked over his left shoulder at the crystal before returning his attention to the door.

  “Amber, can I come in?” Even though he was her brother, no one could enter someone else’s room in the New Circle without their permission. The crystal wouldn’t allow it. And Cyrus didn’t feel like challenging its power.

  “Whatever,” was Amber’s only response. Cyrus took this as permission, though he wasn’t sure if the crystal would see it that way. When he reached for the latch, he was cautious, but it didn’t zap him. He then opened the door and entered.

  Amber was lying curled up in a ball on her bed with tears in her eyes. She was still wearing her sweat suit from the night before and was holding on to her sheets for dear life.

  “Amber, what’s wrong?” he asked with concern as he sat down on the bed next to her.

  “It’s her,” whimpered Amber. “Whenever I close my eyes I see her in my nightmares. I’m always falling, falling right at her. She opens her mouth and I fall in… Then I wake up in a cold sweat,” she whispered as if afraid to be heard.

  “Don’t worry, it’s only a nightmare. It can’t hurt you,” said Cyrus. “Who is it that’s in your dream?”

  “Tiamat,” whispered Amber so quietly he could barely hear her.

  The name stabbed at his heart. The anger he felt earlier returned. It was his fault his sister had to face that monster alone and he couldn’t help but blame himself. Cyrus took her hand and as he did, she sat up and hugged him.

  “She’s gone,” Cyrus soothed. “She disappeared to the south, most likely to the dragon colony down in Antarctica somewhere. You don’t need to worry about her.” But Cyrus knew Tiamat would be back one day and Amber would have to face her fears. Next time, he needed to be ready to destroy the dragon that tormented his sister’s nightmares.

  4 The Rogue Hunters

  A few hours after arriving in the Painted Desert, Taryn and Vincent stopped for a break. Their quest to find Max—or at least his remains—was not going well. The desert was a big place and trying to find a single person dead or alive in such a vast space proved daunting.

  The varied colors of the mountains with the sun directly overhead gave a majestic appearance to the towers of dirt and stone. In such a place, their only hope was that Max was still alive, so Vincent’s spell could detect his magical power. However, in this part of the world, magical energies were common. But they knew Malcolm had been transported here from the Greek Underworld too, so they also had to be on guard.

  They sat in the Jeep drinking water and resting from hours of driving. Vincent sat in the front passenger seat reviewing maps of the area as he attempted to get his bearings. Taryn had reclined in the back with her sunglasses still on, scanning the horizon. As she lay there, the black cat walked up on her belly and looked at her.

  “Can I help ye?” she inquired, studying the feline.

  The cat merely lay down with its head on her chest and fell asleep. Taryn petted it with her left hand as she took another sip of water.

  “I think I finally figured out where we are,” commented Vincent with enthusiasm. He scrunched the map into a ball and threw it. “We’re lost.”

  “Wonderful,” said Taryn with a dry smile. “I figured that out about an hour ago. Any suggestions as to what we do now?” She had not really expected Vincent to locate their position on the map. They were in the middle of a desert with no roads. “What about the GPS on your phone?” she questioned.

  “It says we’re somewhere in the blasted Gulf of Mexico.”

  Taryn could tell he was less than happy about the phone’s inaccuracy. “Hmm, somehow I thought there’d be more water.”

  Taryn smiled when she realized Vincent had chosen to ignore her and was now casting his spell to search for magic once again. “Searo te-yon maku.”

  She watched as he turned in a circle then hesitated in one direction. His attention was off in the distance, but neither of them could see the source of his focus.

  “There’s more than one source of magic,” Vincent said, rising from his seat, prepared for a battle. “Either Malcolm found Max first and they’re heading this way… or we’re about to get some unexpected company.”

  Taryn picked up the cat and placed it back in her backpack. It let out a dissatisfied meow. She then jumped out of the Jeep on the opposite side from Vincent and raised clenched fists out to either side, staring into the distance.

  From behind one of the enormous rock formations, she could see a dust cloud heading in their direction. It wasn’t big enough to be a dust storm, but it also wasn’t small enough to be a single vehicle. As they stood there preparing for the unexpected, the dust cloud continued to draw near. Taryn heard the motorcycles before she saw them. They weren’t heading right at the Jeep, but passed about a mile south of their position.

  “I’m bettin’ they know where they’re goin’,” she suggested. “Maybe we should follow ’em, at least get out of this desert and try again later this evenin’ with a better search plan.” She was hopeful Vincent would agree. Also if the passersby
had a magical member in their group, perhaps they could provide some assistance.

  “You drive,” he replied. “I’ll keep an eye on our friends over there.”

  Taryn was glad to have found a way out of the desert, but was unsure about the magical motorcyclists. They weren’t aware of any unfriendly sorcerers in the area, but then they weren’t aware of any friendly sorcerer activity either. This was a strange puzzle, but the group would most likely lead the way out of the desert, which was the main objective right now.

  If the motorcyclists noticed they were being followed, they did not give any indication. They continued on at the same speed and direction. After about an hour’s drive, they came upon a small town. When the Jeep neared the place where the bikes were parked, Taryn noticed the name of the restaurant in big red and blue letters—The Desert Windstorm. It was a small white diner with a few siding panels pulling away from the bottom of one wall. The parking area was covered in sand with a line of twenty motorcycles along the front of the building. Taryn parked, then grabbed her backpack and started for the entrance.

  “Wait,” called Vincent as he rushed to block her path. “We don’t know if these people will be friend or foe. Let me go in first. I’ll let you know if the coast is clear. I want to make sure we’re not walking into a trap.”

  “A trap?” questioned Taryn. “In all likelihood, these guys are rogue sorcerers. They will probably care less who we are or why we’re here so long as we don’t stay too long. Let’s just go in, get somethin’ to eat and see if we can identify the sorcerers among them. If we can make peaceful contact we will, otherwise we leave.”

  “Fine, but I’m still going in first,” Vincent insisted. “Stay behind me.” He turned and started for the door.

  As they approached the entrance, a man stepped out and stood blocking the door with his arms crossed in front of him. African-American and about six and a half feet tall, he was very muscular with short black hair. He wore a jean jacket with no sleeves, an old pair of jeans and black boots. It was evident he had just come across the desert as he was covered in dust from head to toe.

  “Ah, hello,” said Vincent with a bit of surprise. “We were uh…” He looked the man up and down, but let his sentence trail off.

  “We were just goin’ in for a bite to eat,” said Taryn, pushing her way past Vincent and the tall man, who merely looked at her and let her pass.

  The two men just stood there in amazement at her lack of intimidation. Vincent gave a half-hearted smiled and slowly stepped around the tall man, following Taryn inside.

  There were ten booths along the outer walls with a bar on the opposite wall. Other tables were scattered around the room. At the back of the diner was a larger table with ten people seated around it. Four other booths were also occupied. The sizzle of frying food could be heard from the back and the smell of breakfast whetted Taryn’s appetite. It was still early in the day and the blinds were closed. The dim lights made it difficult to see until her eyes adjusted.

  “Are you insane?” questioned Vincent as he caught up to Taryn, placing a hand on her shoulder. But then he stood there like a deer in the headlights. Everyone in the place was now looking directly at Taryn and Vincent. He lowered his hand to his side.

  The customers were all dressed like the man who had attempted to block the door. Most were Hispanic with a few African-Americans and some Native Americans. The tall man stepped inside and stood directly behind them, once again crossing his arms.

  With a quick glance, Taryn spotted a logo on the back of one of their jackets that read Rogue Hunters—obviously the name of their motorcycle gang.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” suggested Vincent.

  Taryn was not dissuaded. She walked to an empty booth and sat down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vincent pause before following her. She picked up a menu and looked it over. Vincent didn’t take his eyes off everyone else in the room as they continued to stare.

  “Taryn?” he questioned in a higher pitch than normal, “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

  “I think I might try the fried chicken. What do ye think?” she asked, not paying any attention to the multitude of eyes now focused in their direction.

  Vincent made no reply.

  One among the gathered congregation stood. An older man, a little older than Vincent, with long grey hair tied in a ponytail, appeared Native American and wore a white t-shirt under his sleeveless denim jacket and brown leather pants with brown boots.

  As he approached their table, he pulled up a chair and turned it backwards. Straddling it, he used the chair back as an armrest while he eyed the two of them.

  Taryn continued to look over her menu and Vincent sat back in his seat, locking eyes on the stranger.

  The man looked from Vincent to Taryn and back. “Why are you here?” he asked in a dry elderly voice.

  Taryn watched a bead of sweat roll down the side of Vincent’s face. If these were normal people, they would be reluctant to use magic. But she knew if things became dangerous, she and Vincent could use it to escape. In this case, she knew there were at least two sorcerers among them, possibly more. An attack could come from any direction at any time.

  “We, uh… We’re looking—” stuttered Vincent.

  “We’re lookin’ to get somethin’ to eat. Is that alright with ye?” Taryn interrupted, not even looking up from her menu. Unlike Vincent, she appeared calm and unfazed by the attention they were attracting.

  The man just looked at Taryn then redirected his attention. “You followed us out of the desert. What were you looking for?” His eyes narrowed on Vincent.

  “We, uh, we were lost,” stuttered Vincent. “We followed you hoping you knew where you were going.” He gave a weak smile.

  Taryn realized this could turn ugly if things went wrong. It was only the two of them against a gang with two or more sorcerers. She knew Vincent liked to haggle, but she couldn’t understand why he was faltering at a time like this.

  The man continued to study Vincent. He opened his mouth to inquire more.

  “Are ye daft?” Taryn raised her voice. “We’re here for a bite and then we’ll be on our way. We mean ye no harm. By this point, ye know what we’re capable of and we know what yer capable of. Why not just let us eat in peace and then we’ll be on our way? Okay?”

  “You have spirit, young one. I like that, but we must be cautious about strangers in our territory. Another stranger came through here recently and killed two of our friends,” said the man with a stern face. “We will not allow that to happen again.”

  Taryn and Vincent looked at one another with concern and shock.

  The man’s eyes darted between the two of them. “You know this man I speak of?”

  “African descent? And about my age?” Vincent asked.

  “Yes,” replied the man, leaning closer.

  “With a greying goatee, and dressed completely in black? He might have a slight limp from a leg injury?”

  “Yes, that’s the man we seek. You know him?” questioned the stranger with even greater interest.

  “His name is Malcolm, he’s a dark sor…” but then Vincent stopped and started looking around the room at the others.

  The man looked over his shoulder then back to Vincent. “My brothers and sisters are aware of magic and those who possess the ability to control it… such as you two,” he said.

  “His name is Malcolm, he’s a dark sorcerer from New York City,” said Vincent. “We are good sorcerers and members of the Circle. And you are?”

  “I am Qaletaqa, and this is my adopted son Jayden,” he said, pointing to the large muscular man who had met them at the door. “And my daughter Sheelin.” He turned to a beautiful Native American girl standing behind Vincent with a knife already drawn, ready to strike.

  Sheelin sheathed her weapon and placed it in a belt at her waist. She was around seventeen and wore a tan t-shirt under a black vest. Her brown eyes continued to keep watch over them even
while she brushed back her long black hair with a feather fastened to the left side just below her ear.

  “And are you dark sorcerers or good sorcerers?” questioned Vincent cautiously.

  “We are what you would consider… rogue sorcerers.” Qaletaqa looked around to those present in the room. “We take no sides in your war. I am a shaman and leader of our company. My daughter and I were the sorcerers you detected when following us out of the desert. Oh, and our other young friend—Alex Desert Walker.” Qaletaqa turned and pointed to the back of the restaurant. A young man rose from his seat in acknowledgment.

  Taryn turned to see him. “Max!” she yelled in astonishment, rising from her seat. As she did so, the entire gang rose as well… in preparation for an attack.

  5 Max, But Not

  Taryn faced Max from across the room. She realized he was now part of the motorcycle gang… and they would protect their own. She stood there a moment hoping Max would realize who she was and attempt to calm the others, but this did not happen.

  Along with the rest of the gang, Max was prepared for a fight—magical or otherwise.

  Taryn couldn’t understand why he didn’t recognize her. It had only been a few days since they met in Vincent’s office in Miami. Sure, their meeting wasn’t the friendliest, but he had rescued her from a fire and carried her back to the castle in Baltimore.

  “Max? Don’t ye recognize me?” asked Taryn hoping that hearing her voice and his name, might jog his memory.

  The young man just stood there. “My name is Alex Desert Walker. You must have me confused with someone else.”

  Qaletaqa looked at Taryn with a furrowed brow. “How do you know Alex?”

  “His name is Max and he’s my friend, and a member of the Circle. He’s the leader of our group,” answered Taryn trying to put some authority behind her speech this time. She was beginning to get concerned about the situation now. If this gang had adopted Max, they might not be willing to let him go. Rogue sorcerers would have no reason to help either the Circle or the dark sorcerers.