by Sue Duff
A smirk tugged at the corner of Jaered’s mouth. He struggled to keep his eyes open and stared the man down. “Hello, Dad,” he rasped.
{85}
Aeros’s corona snuffed out.
Sebastian flew into a rage and he turned on Ian. “What did you do? You’ve ruined everything!”
Hatred seeped out of Ian like a sieve. “My core blast might have missed the first time.” He raised his hand in a bluff. “But take one more step and the next one won’t.”
Sebastian’s sneer sent a shiver rippling down Ian’s back. “You weren’t listening child.” The word passed his lips filled with venom. “You can’t hurt me.”
Ian’s feet rooted where he stood. His pulse slowed, and he dropped to his knees unable to draw a breath. His weakened core cooled with every contraction of his slowing heart.
His enemy chuckled. “I was one of your first teachers, Ian.” Sebastian’s voice reached into Ian’s mind and unlocked hidden doors. “You were petrified of the water as a child. Did you ever wonder why?” The traitor took a step toward him. “I set it to release on your tenth birthday. Tell me, have you ever enjoyed the water since?”
Bits of memory flickered in Ian’s thoughts: a face, a chant, the look of a piercing gaze while standing on the shore of a lake.
“Once implanted, I can trigger you at any time with words.” He flicked his fingers. “My voice.”
“You made me faint in front of the Syndrion that day.” Ian gulped, but his constricted throat allowed only the slimmest of air into his lungs. He fought for every breath. “Parlor tricks.”
“You would know about tricks, wouldn’t you?” Sebastian hissed.
“You tricked Galen into bringing you the book.”
“The Pur are so easily manipulated by my power, so blind. The fools trust without question.” Sebastian stiffened. “The Primary taught me that.”
“Why?” Ian’s voice croaked.
“Why?” Sebastian mocked with a whine. “The ultimate question of a doomed race.” Sebastian turned his back to Ian and looked at the book in his arms. “The Pur have been misled. The Primary convinced us that the last Sar would be the earth’s great savior.” He paced around Ian like a reprimanding parent. “You needed to be protected, that the Prophesy dictated it so. The book was lost to the Pur for centuries. We had no way to dispute his claims. But Aeros found it. He knows the truth about what’s coming.” Sebastian stopped. “Earth’s Armageddon.”
Ian stared at him as if he were mad.
Sebastian raised his face to the sky. “The cosmic storm is on its way. The signs are upon us. The earth is self-destructing.”
“But … if I can … stop it …”
“Stop it.” Sebastian thrust a gnarled finger at him. “According to the Prophesy, your very birth triggered it!”
Ian’s frantic thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
“I was blinded by the Primary’s manipulation like the rest of the Pur. For so long, I believed his claims. I waited and watched, pushing you whenever I could. But you ended up too afraid of what you inherited to let it surface. Too content to grovel with the humans you preferred instead of embracing what we all believed was your destiny. Your self-servitude would see us destroyed.” Sebastian’s shout morphed into a rattle. “Why align myself with a child, when there’s a god ready and willing? Aeros has dedicated his life, preparing to defend the world.” He waved the book in the air. “All he needs is this back for his plan to be complete. Once I promised to spare you in exchange for his cooperation, Galen translated the pages for me. He learned the truth before he died.” He bent down on one knee and got in Ian’s face. “You aren’t the only one. There’s another redeemer who walks the earth. I now know that it’s Aeros who’ll be the world’s savior, not you.”
Sebastian turned to face the empty vortex. A faint shimmering energy remained that lit up the air with sparks of dancing light. “Whoever your friend was, he sacrificed himself for nothing. I’ll find another way to join Aeros.” He cradled the book. “I have something he covets as much as the earth itself.” He headed toward the field.
Images of Galen’s bloody figure and Mara’s limp body penetrated Ian’s haze. Overwhelming rage soared at the sight of their murderer escaping with the book. A searing plume of hatred surged to the surface and fought its way into his core. The dark fog lifted. Ian’s temper flushed Sebastian’s hold. He struggled to his feet as though Mara herself screamed at him to react.
“No!”
“And who’s to stop me?” Sebastian paused at the edge of the vortex with his back to Ian. “Galen confessed that you never touched the book.” Yet, just as Sebastian spoke the words—it disappeared from his arms. He spun around with a fiery volcano glistening in his eyes.
The conjured book reappeared in Ian’s hand. “I did in the cave.” The book vanished in an emerald burst. Ian reached toward the heavens and focused every ounce of energy he had left on the massive billowing clouds overhead.
A tremendous bolt of lightning struck the center of the vortex. Its thunderclap sent a shock wave across the field. Sebastian leapt away. The blinding explosion extinguished as the field absorbed the energy.
“You missed.” Sebastian snickered.
“It wasn’t meant for you.”
Sebastian’s gaze hardened. Inflection poured into his words. “Bring the book to me.” His hand extended toward Ian.
Ian’s will weakened as Sebastian’s order grasped to overpower him. He fought the growing haze and drew upon the vortex energy. His core ignited and he thrust his arms wide, summoning the earth.
Gale winds swept through the clearing, twisting Sebastian like a spinning top. Ian slammed his fist against the ground. The earth burst open, rushed forward, and uprooted Sebastian, knocking him to his hands and knees. Ian swished his arm and hail sliced through the air. The traitor cowered against the stinging onslaught. A dense fog formed from Ian’s breath, and the opaque cloud swirled, infusing with the air as it swept across the clearing.
An eerie silence settled. Ian stood still, listening.
Sebastian’s voice floated out of the murky depths. “I’m the master of your subconscious, Ian. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”
Ian pinpointed the direction and shyfted behind the traitor. “I’m betting you can’t control all minds.” Sebastian threw him a hateful sneer over his shoulder.
Ian took a step back then turned and walked into the forest, abandoning his enemy.
“You can’t hurt me,” Sebastian shouted, but a twinge of uncertainty carried his voice.
“I know,” Ian said, no longer able to carry his voice above a whisper. Spent with his core drained to a dangerous level, he collapsed against a tree and released them. “But they can.”
The channel opened and Ian saw Sebastian through Saxon’s eyes.
Fog danced around the traitor as he backed up in the direction of the vortex. The air cleared. Sebastian froze, surrounded by dozens of glaring eyes. Snarling and gnashing fangs reached Ian’s ears. Wolves filled the clearing. Saxon snapped at those closest, and they backed off. With a growl, Saxon crouched then sprang at the traitor. The channel broke.
Sebastian’s horrendous scream was brief.
Ian pushed away from the tree and started in the direction of home. He hadn’t gone very far when he stopped. Released of Sebastian’s mind control, Ian’s memories cleared. Images came flowing into his thoughts like an opened closet with all its contents pouring out, spilling everywhere. One was vivid and strong.
Sebastian stood over him, a wild look in his eyes. He held a whip high above his head.
{86}
Ian failed to return. Milo and Patrick scrambled to secure the mansion against the storm while Dr. Mac attempted to comfort Tara. Rayne slipped away from the mansion to battle the elements with an umbrella and Milo’s jacket.
She found him in a clearing of fallen trees at the edge of the inner compound. Curled up with soaked clothes, he lay unmoving while sizzling bol
ts ripped across the sky with the roar of the gods beckoning them on and on. He never lifted his face at her voice. Rayne drew closer, unsure if he was aware she was there.
“They’re dead because of me,” he said.
Her back sagged from the weight of his despair.
“If I hadn’t been so afraid, so stubborn, I would have developed my powers long before now.” He pummeled the log with his fists. One blow after another that split open knuckles. Blood mixed with the rainwater.
His misery dredged up what Rayne hadn’t taken the time to mourn for herself. Lightning struck nearby, its thunderclap deafening. Unafraid, she sat on the log above him. The two of them bound closer than ever by shared grief that ran deeper than any trenches found in the ocean.
“My father killed my mother for protecting me,” Rayne said. “Mara and Galen are dead because of Sebastian’s betrayal. Their deaths are not of our doing, Ian.”
“I could have stopped it.”
“Even with all the power of the earth, you won’t be able to save everyone.” Pooled tears blurred her vision. The desire to throw her arms around him grew too painful to ignore.
The rain’s steady flow turned into a downpour as the flood of sorrow washed across Ian’s face, his chest. Rayne lay on the log above him and fought the urge to touch his cheeks—his hair—his back, anything to allow him to mourn as humanly as possible and keep the worst of the storm at bay.
{87}
Jaered let himself into the safe house and made his way down the short hall. He turned on the bathroom light and shut the door.
When the front door opened then closed, he braced himself for what was coming. He wasn’t so out of it that he’d missed her car parked down the street. It stood out in this hellhole of a neighborhood.
“Are you insane?” Eve’s voice penetrated the wooden barrier. “I don’t recall sending you on a suicide mission.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Jaered unzipped his sweatshirt and eased his shoulder out of the sleeve. He bit his lip to stifle a moan. “If my father had arrived, he would have taken the book and God-only-knows what else.”
“And the price you paid for interfering?” Her tone softened. “How bad is it?”
Like inhaling shards of glass, he thought. A palette of colors splashed across his side—gifts from his father. “I’ll live.”
“I’ll send for a doctor.”
“Don’t bother.” He opened the medicine cabinet and popped a painkiller in his mouth, hesitated, then added another. He swallowed them dry. “I told him the Heir was much more powerful than he thought. He’d stolen the book from Ning and already had it hidden from even the Pur. He was lying in wait at the vortex to spring his trap. I was very convincing. He’ll keep his distance from the Heir for now.”
“Not only has the Primary awakened the boy, he’s managed to rid himself of his greatest obstacle at the same time.” The admiration in her voice caught Jaered by surprise. “Yet, the fool continues to keep the Pur ignorant.”
“You sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“Don’t discount the man’s cunning,” she snapped. “The question you should be asking yourself is why?”
At the moment, Jaered didn’t care about anything. He leaned against the sink wanting nothing more than to collapse on the lumpy bed and wait for the meds to kick in.
It seemed like an eternity ago when he set fire to the warehouse to flush out Aeros’s plan. Jaered had kept a souvenir from the office wall and taped her picture to the inside of the medicine cabinet door. The shot captured her in a sunlit smile, her eyes bright and full of mischief. His chest heaved—spikes ripped through his chest. The pain flushed his melancholy.
Eve banged something against the bathroom door. A recorded message, Jaered’s voice, startled him. “Did I mention he’s dying in front of me as we speak?” There was a pause. “Wherever you are, you’re going to feel the Prophecy rain down on us at any minute.” A clap of thunder amidst howls of wind in the background then static. Something else was captured on the recording from the cliff’s edge in Oregon, something Jaered hadn’t noticed at the time—a woman’s shriek on the heels of the thunder.
“You revealed yourself to her, don’t bother to deny it.” Eve’s tone dripped more than warning. “Let her go, Jaered. She’s not Kyre.”
“Tell my eyes that,” he whispered to the picture on the in-side of the mirror. He pressed his hand against the pain that sliced through his side. “Convince my heart.”
“She has the power to destroy you.” Eve’s anger seeped through the door. “In more ways than one. Keep a level head, for the greater good.” She left, slamming the outer door.
He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face. A blessed numb took hold, from the meds or sheer exhaustion, he didn’t care which. Jaered stared at his chest in the mirror while his finger traced the sun inside the triangle.
{88}
They chose a burial site next to the south path. The Syndrion came. Everyone knew to bring an umbrella. With all the Sars around, Rayne remained upstairs at the mansion. Ian sensed her watching their procession to the site, standing alone on the bedroom balcony. How he ached to be in her arms, to find comfort and solace in her loving embrace.
Ian clasped Tara’s hand as they walked behind the Primary with Patrick supporting her on the other side. Her once bright and powerful energy had become a diffused shadow. Mara was the severed limb, no longer seen or touched, but acutely felt.
They stood in front of the open graves, Ian’s eyes unwavering from the fresh-tilled soil beyond. The only one without an umbrella, he welcomed the drench of tears as though one and the same. He never spoke, even when the Primary asked him if he’d like to say a few words.
At Ian’s silence, the Primary stepped forward and scooped a handful of soil from the mound. “From the earth we are born.” He sprinkled the dirt over the lowered bodies.
Marcus followed and did the same. “To the earth we re-turn.”
The entire group’s voices rose in unison. “Servants to the end of the ones above, caring for their greatest creation.” Their chant drifted through the trees. Slowly, the mourners filed by the grave adding a bit of the earth to Mara’s and Galen’s memories, then made their way toward the house. Marcus and the Primary stood beside the headstones in silence. They left a moment later.
Tara stepped toward the graves. “Mara was prepared to die for you, Ian … not me,” she sputtered.
Ian bowed his head, unable to bear the crush of her words.
“No selfless act is ever wasted,” Patrick said softly.
Tara covered her face with her hands. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t say good-bye.”
“She isn’t gone.” Ian wrapped his arms around her and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. “A flame such as hers can’t be extinguished. Her energy burns on inside us.” Tara buried her face in his chest. Sobs racked her body while he held on tight. It tortured him that he couldn’t spare her of the pain.
“I hope Mara drilled one thing into that skull of yours …” Tara lifted her face. She gathered his jacket in her fists. “That a weak core doesn’t make a weak man.”
Ian blinked back tears as he swiped at hers with his thumb then handed her to Patrick. He threw his arm around her and she rested her head against his shoulder as he led her away.
Ian stepped forward and drew power into his raised hand. The pile of dirt filled in the graves. Every plop of the moist soil rang as strikes of a hammer on a nail driven into his heart, but he kept at it until the holes filled to overflowing. He swept his hand, and an array of wildflowers sprang from the ground. They lilted in the rain, receiving nourishment for their loving vigil.
“You’ve taught me the greatest lesson of all,” he said on splintered words. “That my mistakes are forever.” He crouched next to the smooth granite slabs. “Your faith in me, your deaths, are not in vain. I swear I will no longer put myself or my own desires before those of the earth.” He pressed his fin
ger against the granite. Chips of stone spattered about.
Ian rose, took one last look around, and left the grave sites more complete, with his messages of love to a sister and a father freshly carved in the stones.
Ian shyfted to the south path. He dropped the cloth sack at the Primary’s feet. A melody of scraping and rattles took a second to settle. “A gift for the Syndrion,” he said.
A slight upturn at the corner of the Primary’s mouth gave his true sentiments away. “Sebastian will be attending the next council meeting after all.”
“It’s proof of my strength. No more babysitting.”
“The vote was unanimous; you are no longer the Syndrion’s charge, Ian. But, if you’ll agree, I have a lengthy list of conservation assignments that require your unique talents.” The Primary picked up the sack. “Do you really want him along on our walk?”
At Ian’s touch, the bag of bones disappeared.
For a few minutes, they strolled in silence. Ian raised his face to the sun. Its energy bolstered his courage to ask the question that had kept him awake for the past two nights—what had haunted him for much of his life. “I want to know about The Rising,” he said.
The Primary stuck his hands in his sleeves and dropped his chin. “With Sebastian’s hold over you, I now understand why you never spoke of it all these years.”
“I wasn’t the only one.” Ian didn’t attempt to mask his irritation, and a breeze whipped around them that sent a chill between them.
“Yes, Ian, we were all too eager to sweep it under the rug and go about as if it never happened.”
“What did happen?”
A sizeable boulder presented itself and the Primary took a seat. “All Weir Sars develop their power by the age of five. But not you. The Syndrion became desperate, unsure what to do. Sebastian convinced us that you needed to be placed in peril, that it would be the only way to force your tremendous powers to the surface. Ironic, really, the men who volunteered were thought of as heroes at the time.”
“Why?”
“Because you could have retaliated, used any newfound powers against them. But you didn’t, your powers remained suppressed.”