“Ok. Well, that makes sense, I guess.” Anthony weighed the act in his head.
“That’s just it, though,” Joaquin’s face filled with a pained look. “I didn’t tell you everything that has to happen in order for you to become the one, true Kring-Hël, the Bearer of the Legacy of Truth. I think the pool is much, much more than just a large puddle of ultra-clean water.”
“What’re you getting at, Joaquin? You’re confusing me.” The anguish in Joaquin’s face was making Anthony wary.
“You have to understand, I had my reasons for not telling you when I told the entire group of my experience with the Nohrëg.
“One,” he held up a finger before him, “you are right. I don’t want everyone to start freaking out when they learn what must happen in order for you to become the true Kring-Hël.
“Two,” another finger went up, “it’s your choice. You are the only one who can decide what’s to happen to your body. No one can make that kind of decision but you. Because of it, I thought I should tell you first, in private.”
Anthony was still grimacing. He edged downward to sit on his butt. His expression froze on his face, as if something Joaquin had said opened a door only he could see through. Whatever it was he saw, it stupefied him.
Joaquin put down his hand. “From this point on, I figured it would be up to you to decide how to disseminate the information to the others. Whatever you decide is the best course, I’ll back you up. Although, I have to tell you, if it was me I would keep this a secret for as long as possible. It’s too inflammatory. Information of this kind is volatile. It must be told as gentle as possible, or conveyed at the last possible moment. You do this to minimize the damage… and/or the hurt.” He whispered the last part, a wan twist on his lips. “I just thought you should hear that before I go any further.”
Through his entire explanation, Anthony just stared back. He did not move. He had zoned out.
Joaquin tried not to pay too much attention to what he was doing. He had to keep up his courage. He knew, once he started down this path, he would not want to stop. He also knew, if he looked at Anthony, all courage would fail him. He would not be capable of continuing.
“Now, I know you know this, but I want to repeat myself a bit just so I can get it straight in my head if you don’t mind,” beseeched Joaquin.
Anthony nodded.
“I’ve told you already. In the past, prior Kring-Hël potentiates remained in only their secondary form. This was because there had never been the need to warrant such a dramatic transformation. Thus, only the lesser stage of the Gift was necessary. This time though, things are different. The stakes have risen greater than in any other time in the past. You see, the Lord of the Storm has not only created a Melded World and marooned us upon it. He comes to destroy us himself, in his true form, which he never would have had the ability to do in the World of Man, but here, in this place, he can. This is a construct of his forging, bent and perverted by his will and his will alone. Thus, more than any other time, the Twelve – us - face the greatest danger.
“If we’re all slain, then our deaths would spell certain doom for the World of Man, maybe even the World of Light. That is why it is necessary for the true Kring-Hël to emerge this time.”
“Yes, Joaquin, I remember everything you said in the cave. I understand the burden I must bear,” blurted Anthony.
Joaquin could tell he was getting anxious. He glanced over at the teenage boy across from him, his expression as sharp as a blade. “No, you don’t.”
“What do you mean, I don’t. I understand everything you’ve said.” Anthony was borderline indignant.
Joaquin bore the brunt of his gaze without changing the look on his face. “You might understand what I’ve told you, but you have no idea of the burden you have agreed to undertake.”
“Then, by all means, explain,” Anthony’s tone was mocking. He spread his arms wide.
Joaquin, under normal circumstances, would have been angry at this point. But, he did not let himself fall prey to any unnecessary emotion. In this instance, it was not warranted. He peered back at Anthony for a breath or two. “It’s the nature of the pool that is the key to the revelation of the true Kring-Hël.”
Anthony’s face went stone-like.
Joaquin forged on. “It is much more than just a small body of water, Anthony. It is like a doorway, a way to cleanse the soul of all things. It could be a link to the source of the Light itself. It is a wondrous thing, so powerful, so beautiful.”
“I'm getting the sense there is a catch somewhere in all this magnificence and wonder,” Anthony commented. His face was still stern.
Joaquin could see him force away his feelings. “You’re right, Tony. I don’t know how to put it to you any other way than to say in the only terms that I can understand.”
Anthony motioned for him to continue.
“There is not a thing of the living that can pass onto the Light and go unchanged. Flesh, bone, mind, thought - it all must change from what it was and become something else to pass back. Coming from the Light to one’s own plane of existence requires a toll, a rather heavy-handed one at that.
“Do you understand what I am saying to you?” Joaquin was watching Anthony like a hawk as the boy gazed off to look outside at the violence of the storm, his eyes glossy and far away.
A heartbeat passed and then another and finally one more.
A strangled breath escaped between Anthony’s lips that seemed to suck the life from him at once. His head dipped. His chin came to rest upon his chest. He sat like that, motionless and still, breathing ragged and slow.
Joaquin let the minutes pass in silence, waiting, watching. He heard only the monotonous drone of the space heater in chorus with the up and down howling of the wind outside. He prayed Anthony would hold it together. He hoped their Kring-Hël would not blow up and cause a scene he was ill-prepared to explain. He knew the others were not ready to hear the truth, especially Sophie.
The doors of the store vibrated once again as the hurricane winds thudded against them. They groaned, resisting the bombardment.
Anthony looked up to face Joaquin.
The hulking boy saw a single tear had fallen from Anthony’s face. Its’ wet trail was still visible.
“I have to die, right? That’s the catch, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice quivering, weak, strained.
“Yes.”
It was the only answer.
It was the only reply.
Anthony closed his eyes, almost like he was about to fall asleep, but he was not. He spoke with his eyelids shut. “Will I remember who I was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will I look the same?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will I even have the same soul?
Before Joaquin could answer, a new, more startling revelation descended upon Anthony’s shoulders. He peered back at Joaquin wide-eyed and in obvious fear. “Will I remember her?”
Joaquin looked away, releasing a tortured breath.
“Dammit, Joaquin, will I still know that I love Sophie?!?” His fists balled. He was just strong enough to contain himself. Although, he looked close to striking out at something, anything close.
Joaquin turned to gaze at him in the face. “Anthony, my friend… my brother, I do not know...”
Anthony buried his face in his hands, finally releasing what he had been holding back. Soft, pain-wracked sobs issued from him with such devastating cruelty, Joaquin inched his way toward the teenage boy without a second thought. He scooted on his butt until he was able to put his arms around him and hug him. It was fierce, an embrace between men, not boys.
“I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry,” he muttered, a newfound mantra he could not stop speaking.
Be strong, Anthony! Be strong!
Joaquin had never had a brother, let alone had any other sibling in his life. He imagined at that moment this was what it must be like to have a brother in pain, a brother in need. The
way he felt left no other explanation in his mind. He was sitting there, hugging what his heart told him was brother, his own tears streaming down his own face and onto the floor. Somehow, at some time, both of their right hands found the other. They clasped each other, gripping as hard as they could with ferocious symbolism. They were brothers. They would get through this, even if the cost was death.
Unfortunately, it was.
With Joaquin draped over him like a blanket.
Anthony muttered through lips so drenched with tears and mucus, he sputtered.
Joaquin could have cared less.
“Until death and beyond, Joaquin. Until death and beyond. I’m not going down without a fight. I’m not going to let them hurt my sisters, or Sophie.”
The words of a dead boy echoed through the store.
There was only one answer to that too.
“I hear you, bro. I will walk with you every step of the way.”
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
~ 37 ~
A Promise Made
Day Four, Sunday, 8:00 pm “On the Dot”…
Sophie Reed sat on one of the lawn chairs they had spread before the huge common area. Now, it housed the six double-high, queen-sized air mattresses and a slew of other patio and lawn furniture. And, it covered an area two hundred feet square.
As time passed, it seemed like one or two of their party was keeping busy by upgrading the environs of their living quarters. So, in a circumspect, but consistent manner, the overall condition of the area improved. Call it nerves or the need to have a home. Whatever it was, they were all of the same mind. They were going to be there for an extended period of time, so why not live as comfortable as possible?
She was impatient, more than a little agitated, which in turn made her feel worse inside. Feeling anxious and insecure left her thinking she was a spoiled child, lacking the ability to sit still and wait. Instead, she was becoming a petulant, a little brat, and not the budding, mature woman she knew she should be.
What made it all the more difficult was the sense that time itself seemed to be standing still. Each tick of the clock was slower than the last, moreso with every glance at her wrist watch. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the harder it was not to.
It had only been fifteen minutes since she had left Anthony alone with Joaquin to discuss God knew what about Joaquin’s Gift. Already it felt like an eternity.
Even with everything around her digital or battery-operated, she swore she could still hear the incessant ticking of an old wind-up timepiece in her ear.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!
It was driving her mad.
And that was just it, wasn’t it? Maybe she was already mad. Maybe she had already gone “koo-koo” with anger. There was no clock of that nature anywhere around her. There was not anything like one anywhere in the Melded world!
And still…
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!
She shifted her position, sitting more on her side, letting herself slouch, lying down. She huffed and harrumphed as she did so, as loud as she could manage without sounding like a complete idiot.
What the hell was so damned important that you had to speak about it in private and with my boyfriend! He’s my best friend, dammit, she thought to herself. Don’t you think that he’ll tell me anyway? Don’t you think he’d confess whatever the hell you guys are talking about? So why all the cloak and dagger! Why put this wedge between us? She smiled hard. It will only take a few kisses and he’ll spill his guts.
Wait, did I just think that? For real? Jesus, I sound like a world class bimbo!
“Boys can be sooo stupid sometimes,” she muttered under her breath.
Then a thought hit her, catching her off guard. Why am I acting just as stupid then? She laid there and could not recall a single time in the past when she had let herself get all worked up like this. What the hell was the big deal, anyway? Was it because she and Anthony had been making out for the first time when Joaquin interrupted them? Was it that and the fact he had asked for a private counsel with her boyfriend when she wanted nothing more than to be alone with Anthony? Was that the reason? It sure did not feel like that was the reason, though.
But if not, then what? What was the deal with her? Why was she so antsy and so unlike her usual self? Why was this so deep under her skin? It should have bounced off the surface?
You love him… don’t you?
“Yes, but what does that have to do with it?” she answered herself, a whispering question.
You have loved him since you first laid eyes on him. When you kissed him, you were willing to give yourself to him. You have claimed him for your own and you don’t like the thought of something left unsaid between the two of you.
“I’m not sure about that, but –,” she interrupted herself.
I know, Sophie. I feel it too.
“Is that the reason? Really? Is this more than just being possessive?”
Give yourself some credit, girl. It’s way more mature than that. You want to be by his side at all times. You want to know all there is to know about him, down to the tiniest. You want all that he is. You are willing to give him everything to know. And, you want him to give you everything back in return. It’s only natural, Sophie. He’s the first boy who fits.
“He’s a wonderful and beautiful young man,” she rationalized with herself. Still, she knew her inner voice had hit it square on the head. She did want him, every last shred.
You’re afraid you’ll lose him.
“I couldn’t bear it, not after everything else that has happened.”
What if you had too…?
Sophie's sigh was huge at the thought, feeling the emotion and the dread rise in her breast at the same time. She brushed aside an obnoxious tear that had the gall to well up in her eye with an absent swipe. All this was new to her. She had not felt such an affinity or closeness with a boy her entire life. She had not let any boy into her heart before, because she felt, deep down, she was not ready. She still had so much more to do before she would saddle herself or her heart on a single person.
Her parents had married young, though. They had dived headlong into the drudgery of life at a time when they could have been traveling or learning abroad. They chose each other over something else more spontaneous. They had chosen to forsaken their youth to start a family.
And, they are still married.
Happily, she hoped.
Instead, they had planned. They went to college together, majoring in psychology. They both graduated, but not before her older sister had been born. In fact, she, Sophie, had been a bun in the oven when her mom had walked across the stage to receive her master’s degree. With them, there were no stories of crazy frat parties or girls’ nights out on the town. There were no secrets buried in the closet, told behind the back of the hand. There were not any wild love affairs in Paris, Rome, or in the bed of someone’s Chevy truck. Her parents were not built that way. There were pragmatic, though their love for one another did run deep.
Sure, their careful design had provided a stable and fruitful environment for her and her siblings to flourish. They had all grown up in positions from which they all could succeed.
Yet, all that resonated with Sophie in such a way that she wanted to experience a little of what her parents had not. She wanted to have a few “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” tales to share with her daughter when she was old enough to hear them. She wanted to have a few “oopsies” and an odd, “Oh, man, that was a bad idea” sort of memory.
Well, when she was old enough to have them, of course.
She was not a hoochie-mama!
Now, all that had changed. She wondered if it had been the same for her mother when she had first began dating her father. Although, she was somewhat certain there had been no maniacal, demi-god stalking them after they had met. They sure as hell had not been cast into a mixed world born of two others.
Of that, there was no doubt. But s
till, she wondered if her mother had felt something like what she felt for Anthony. Maybe that was why her mother had been so willing to give up some of her freedom. Maybe that's why she gave up some of her worldly experience to be with the boy that eventually became her father. Was her mother’s experience anything like hers? Had the experience itself made it easy for her mother? Had the comfort, the warmth in her heart been the catalyst? Had her blood coursed through her veins when she had kissed her father-to-be all those years ago?
I want him.
Maybe it was this way. Or maybe it was not. What mattered now, here, with Sophie parents so far away, was something new had materialized within her. Something made her look at things from a new perspective, a different angle. It had changed all her past impressions and thoughts on the subject. He had made her lust after him, had he not? He had turned on the engine she swore she would keep under lock and key until she graduated from college. No other boy had made her feel this way.
I want him.
Still though, there was so much Anthony, her and the rest of the Twelve had to do before they could even dream of a good night’s sleep, let alone make an attempt at a relationship. Or have sex! They were a hunted group. Their lives were at still risk. She knew the Lord of the Storm would not rest until he had them all under his boot. Just as Fenris would not rest nor would Inghëldir or Vallüm. All the hundreds, if not thousands, of creatures bound by oath and by blood to the Foul Snowman would be coming for them. They were all tracking the Twelve. There was no denying that either.
So why was she lying down on a lawn chair worrying about time dragging-on? Why was her mind running rampant with questions of love and relationships? Why was she obsessing over carnal intimacy with the opposite sex?
Ridiculous, she admonished herself, sitting up straighter, clearing her thoughts. She glanced about, shocked to see Joaquin sitting, resting his back against one of the air mattresses. He had his eyes closed. His face was haggard and drawn.
Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves Page 43