“So you came to me to have a chat about things I already know? All right, it’s great to see you and all but I still don’t get it. What’s the use in that?” Being in Oliver’s presence again was comforting, even if Kristian wasn’t sure it was real.
“I can only guide you,” Oliver whispered. Suddenly it became clear, he had been so overwhelmed by seeing Oliver he wasn’t thinking clearly, but now it was obvious why he was here.
“This is about Zelupzs, isn’t it? This is about the Sagara prophecy,” Kristian had never spoken about Sagara before.
“In a way, yes,” replied Oliver, “I know what Zelupzs told you.” Oliver stopped walking and gazed at Kristian’s face to gauge his response.
“Is it true?” Kristian words slipped out of his mouth before he could think about them.
“What does everything tell you?” Oliver replied.
“Yes, and it’s started,” Kristian whispered; deep down he knew that things were in motion and the implications scared him to his very core. “It’s Leceth isn’t it? He’s a part of it all.”
“He is responsible for my death. It’s all connected, don’t you think?” said Oliver cautiously.
Kristian fell back to the floor with the weight of what he was being told; he found himself close to tears, but again fought back the urge to let go.
“Hey, don’t you cry. Not yet,” Oliver said, as he knelt next to his old companion. “It’s not your fault. It’s just a part of that crazy thing we call destiny. You just have to play the game. Play by the rules,” Oliver tried hard to bolster Kristian.
Kristian held back the tears, once again; he had spent so long running but somehow Sagara had finally caught up with him. “You know. I believed that if I distanced myself from our world, then just maybe that would be enough to stop it,” said Kristian as Oliver’s thumb and first finger gently pushed Kristian’s chin and lifted it up so that their eyes connected.
“Listen,” Oliver said softly. “What is going to happen cannot be changed. You are a part of it, you have to stop running. What has happened and what will happen is not your fault, you are a cog in a machine.”
Kristian did not take any comfort in this; he knew exactly what it meant and what was to come; he pulled away from Oliver.
“There are things you have to do. You must put your emotions aside,” Oliver continued.
Kristian shook his head. How could he keep his emotions in check now? The outcome could not be changed.
“It has cost you your life! That is just the beginning!” Kristian shouted angrily, helplessly.
Oliver looked hurt by these words. “Listen, the prophecy is realising itself, you cannot alter the ultimate outcome or its conclusion but you can influence the meandering course it follows to it; there are things you can do to save lives.”
“Like what?” Kristian replied defensively.
“You must remain at the Order for starters,” he turned away as though looking at a script, but in fact he was contemplating his next sentence. “And there is something else you need to do, something I need you to do for me.”
Kristian looked up suddenly, “What?” he asked.
Oliver was once again locked in thought as he contemplated his next words. “It is dangerous. There is something that you’ve seen before,” with these words he pointed towards the corner of the room and suddenly the urn retrieved from the Berlin warehouse appeared. “The urn?” Kristian whispered. “What about it?”
“I need you to destroy one. Not the one you have taken. There are more out there and Leceth has another one.” As Oliver spoke now his every word seemed to cause him to become increasingly hazy, as if walking closer and closer to a desert mirage.
Kristian was surprised. Oliver was telling him things that he didn’t know, couldn’t know. Surely, that was against the ‘rules’.
“More? What do they do?” Kristian questioned.
“I cannot tell you what they do. You must find the one Leceth has and destroy it. It has a part of me in it. Not just my heart,” as he spoke he winked, which Kristian found hard to discern as Oliver seemed to be struggling to keep his wispy corporeal form intact.
Instantly Kristian knew what the urn’s purpose was, or at least what it contained.
“Ethalon? Your Phoenix. He’s trapped within the urn?” Kristian jumped back to his feet. “That’s what they do, that’s it!” At last he felt a little closer to the mystery of Oliver’s death.
“I know it’s dangerous but can you do this for me?” Oliver asked, his voice fainter than before.
Kristian replied instantly, “Yes”. He wanted to get started straight away. “So if I destroy the urn, I free the Phoenix?”
“Yes,” Oliver nodded.
Kristian moved quickly towards Oliver and hugged him tightly. “You will be avenged,” Kristian said staring at Oliver.
Oliver quickly held him back. “No, this is not about revenge. You cannot kill Leceth. Do you understand? You must destroy the urn, but do not kill him. Promise me that?”
“Why?” Kristian was surprised. “Surely he deserves it after what he did to you?”
“Maybe he does, but you cannot do it. Promise me. Please?” Oliver’s voice was full of concern, he looked worried, his voice had returned to a more audible level.
Kristian didn’t understand why he couldn’t kill Leceth but it would be hard to ignore Oliver’s request, and he knew he couldn’t go against his friend. However, the thought of not taking care of Leceth was like a knife in his gut.
“Fine. I promise, I will spare his life. Only because you have asked me, but you have to tell me why. Tell me why and I give you my word that I will free Ethalon.”
Oliver’s face lit up and he re-embraced his old companion. “Thank you. You just can’t face him, you can’t kill him. Is that clear?” Oliver spoke softly into his ear. “If you face Leceth you will die.”
Kristian flinched backwards; his biggest failing was his relentless fear about his own mortality.
“So, you’re saying that if I face Leceth I will fail?” Kristian asked, his voice trembling.
“Maybe. I really don’t have all the answers. I just know that if you face him, you will change things. You’ll die before you should. Trust me, you cannot face him.”
Kristian responded by simply bowing his head, he was struggling for words.
“You’ll be fine. I have faith in you,” Oliver’s voice was fading away again, he felt like he was being pulled back; possibly he had revealed too much. The thought of this meeting ending saddened Kristian.
“Will I see you again?” Kristian frantically asked.
“No, not for a while, if you know what I mean? You will be waking up soon. Goodbye.” Oliver turned and walked away; he was fading away, faster than before. Kristian’s vision became blurry again, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He heard Oliver speak once more, “Tell Adriana… tell her I love her… on second thoughts, never mind… she knows,” and with one more smile Oliver was gone and Kristian felt overwhelmed with sadness and the need for revenge before sinking back into a silent darkness.
…
Suddenly aware of something other than blackness he opened his eyes again and wondered if it was another dream, another vision. But, to both his relief and disappointment, it was clear by the pain he felt spearing his side that he must be awake. He slowly became more aware of his surroundings, eyelids were hard to part, sticky and congealed, his body cold against the sweat-damp sheets. Tongue coarse and his skin pale and dry.
He looked about him and quickly recognised the medical centre’s starkness, then his eyes fell upon the bed next to him. Turning painfully onto his side, he saw Kieran’s face pressed hard against a pillow, his eyes half open.
“You’re awake!” Susan said, walking towards him.
He attempted to reply but his throat was so dry. Susan sat next to his bed and immediately checked him over. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Like I’ve been hit by a bus… or two,”
came Kristian’s response.
Susan smiled, “You are very lucky to be alive.”
Kristian would have laughed at her response if his mouth wasn’t hurting so much, not because he found it funny but because of how clinical her tone sounded.
“Well, lucky is one word you could use, I guess,” Kristian said as he attempted to sit up, letting out a scream as the pain in his side blossomed. Susan placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a disapproving look.
“I don’t think so, mister!” she said as she gently pushed him back down.
Kristian was grateful that she had done so, the pain was unbearable. I guess the mission will have to wait!, he thought as he looked over to Kieran.
“How long has he been here?” Kristian said as he directed Susan to look at Kieran with his eyes.
Susan glanced over and gave another disapproving look. “Days,” she said. “One wonders if he has any work to do!”
Kristian chuckled painfully to himself. “Days? How long have I been here?”
“Six days,” she replied to which Kristian let out a long sigh. “You’re doing fantastically well though. The viral load is minimal and your body is already working on repairing the damage. You’ll soon be in the record books, no one has ever survived a Jakyll envenomation… that we know of anyway.” Susan almost gloated as she wrote some notes in the records at the end of his bed.
“How long until you can discharge me?” he asked hopefully.
Susan shook her head. “Several days, maybe a week,” to which Kristian closed his eyes tightly in a show of annoyance.
“Can I get a drink or maybe some food? I’m starving,” Kristian pleaded, his voice sounding dry and broken.
“Sure, I will fetch you some water. Food, I will have to make a call. We are going to have to structure your diet, I will get you something in a while.” As she finished, she walked towards the office and then shortly returned with a large glass of water. “Sip it!” she barked as she once again walked away to her office.
Kristian began sipping his drink and as it rushed down his mouth, it relieved the roughness in his throat. He let out a sigh and turned to see Kieran stirring in his sleep.
“Umm, no. Wait! He can’t!” he uttered from his dreams, then twitched and woke himself up with a start. In a sleepy haze, he looked over at Kristian and it took him about ten seconds to realise that Kristian was awake.
“You’re awake!” Kieran instantly came to his senses and flung the sheet that covered him to one side. He slid out of the bed and gave Kristian a bear hug.
“Oww,” Kristian said, partly sarcastically, mostly painfully.
“Sorry!” Kieran backed off. “I can’t believe you’re awake. And you’re still alive!”
“Yes, I’m certainly alive, the pain I’m feeling assures me of that,” Kristian replied as he smiled to one side. “How long have you been sleeping here?”
“Oh, um, not long, just a few hours really,” muttered Kieran. Kristian knew that this was a lie, not just because Susan had told him but from the look on Kieran’s face. “I’m so glad you are awake. I suppose it won’t be long before you are back on your feet and leaving us again?” Kieran said sadly.
Kristian almost blurted out that he was planning on staying but he decided to keep that to himself, for now.
“How are you feeling?” Kieran asked.
“Achy. Sore. The usual for someone in a hospital bed, I suspect. But I’m sure it will pass soon. How has it been around here?”
“Good! Well as good as it can be. Just been sorting out the Jakyll. Andrew and Roman have been over at the cells a lot, not really sure what they’ve been doing. Oh, and Zhing is back, she arrived a couple of days ago but has left already, I don’t know where though; no one does,” he spoke quickly and didn’t stop for breath.
“Cool. Ow!” Kristian gripped his side; the pain seemed to come and go, stabbing him every so often.
“Are you all right?” Kieran asked worriedly.
He nodded and let out a silent yes then sighed heavily after which Kieran stood up. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked. “You need your rest.”
Kristian shook his head, “No, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here. And I think I have rested enough! You couldn’t do me a favour, could you?”
Kieran was happy to oblige Kristian’s request of smuggling him in some food. The pair chatted for hours over some fried chicken and hamburgers, which Kieran had smuggled in under a rather neat invisibility spell.
It wasn’t long before Rachel appeared and joined in on the smuggling game. The three stayed up late, much to Susan’s displeasure. She was constantly ordering them to leave, but after making motions to get up and go the pair would quietly sit back down with Kristian under the cover of a further spell of Kieran’s.
It was like being at some old boarding school for the three of them and they enjoyed breaking the rules. This all carried on every day for four days, even getting to the point where Susan complained to Jonathon about their disregard for her. The gang’s response to this was simply to get Jean and Sam in on the act. They all stayed up late every night discussing all manner of mystical subjects, ranging from the origins of magic to the mystery that is the Trinity.
“So, you have to have a soul to wield magic?” Kristian asked, confused, during one of the late-night conversations.
“Yes,” replied Kieran. “The energy that is used in magic stems from the soul. So, creatures that don’t have souls such as vampires and Vinji cannot use magic. And that supports the argument that the Phoenix and the Trinity are alike, that they are living entities, that they are soul-like.”
Magic was the most popular topic of discussion for the group and they would often talk about it into the late hours. Soon, a week had passed and each of them began to feel guilty when they thought about how much work they had put off. Kristian had a permanent knot in his stomach that served to reminded him of his promise to Oliver but he was improving almost hour by hour now and the pain had subsided substantially. He soon found himself back on his feet, walking around the ward. Susan found herself longing to discharge him, just to get him and his fellow aggravators out of her ward and her hair.
Eventually, sixteen days after he was first admitted, Susan took his bandages off. The wound had generally healed well, considering its source, but Kristian was left badly scarred, unusual for a Phoenix host, who were renowned for their enhanced capacity for healing. Three large dark grey, angry-looking strokes now lay on his right side. “Wow, that’s not going to go is it?” Kristian gasped as Susan inspected the scars.
“I suspect it will fade in time, but looking at it, it might not go completely,” said the doctor. “Well, we have your blood results back; it shows an unrecordable viral load and no more evidence of cell damage. You look good. I think you can leave today.”
“You seem happier about that than me!” Kristian chuckled as he removed his hospital shirt and reached for the bag of clothes next to his bed. He was changed so quickly that Susan didn’t even have time to turn away. Throwing his stuff into the bag, he slung it over his shoulder and kissed Susan on the cheek. “Thank you, Dr. Gambon. You’re literally a lifesaver!”
He left the room and took the lift to his living quarters. He threw his bag in and then rushed off to find one of the gang, he didn’t care which one.
Susan had watched as the lift doors closed behind him. She fell backwards onto the bed and let out a huge scream! The pure delight that she felt could only be released by such a huge outward expression, what a paper she was going to write!
…
- Chapter Seventeen -
The Death and Rebirth of the Old Enemy
‘I tracked him to the monastery, taking shelter with the monks there. I thought it risky to try and apprehend him in this place, without a well-thought-out plan but, knowing what I do of his devious nature, I was compelled to make the first move; besides, I could sense him and I could tell he was well aware of my presence too.
; Moving deeper into the monastery I spied him in the flesh and immediately launched a barrage of Kar’sin bolts towards him resulting only in plumes of vaporised brick and stone. I waited for the dust to settle to continue the assault. I could see no sign of him amongst the rubble now around me so I made haste down his only possible route of escape. I emerged at the entry to the large ornamental garden; the gates were wide open and in the still of the night I could hear his footfalls moving away, sprinting.
I followed as fast as I could, avoiding the tall trees and overgrown bushes of the gardens; soon I found myself entering a moonlit and deathly silent cemetery. Vaulting a particularly tall wall I landed softly on the grass and spotted Tom only a few metres away. I raised my hands and cast out yet more blasts. One collided with a headstone, the other a tree.
As shards of wood and stone flew past him, he turned and sent tendrils of his own dark black energy at me; the air smelled sulphurous. I had trouble tracking them against the darkness of the night so to protect myself I produced a bold sapphire-blue shield extending out from my palms; the light emitted dimly illuminated Tom’s angst-filled face, throwing it into relief. Bolts of his projected shadow slammed into my shield, pockmarking it with spidery impact flecks. Abruptly, he stopped and was off running again. Within seconds I had closed my palms and lowered my shield and was off following, sending as many of my own bolts towards him as I could muster. One caught his legs. He dropped hard to the ground and seizing my opportunity I leapt high into the air, drew my sword and landed within striking distance…’
Jonathon dropped the file he was reading onto his desk as he heard knocking at his door; a stone’s impression resulted in a much more poetic report than when it was simply written by an agent: secretly Jonathon enjoyed reading them much more. “Come in!” he shouted.
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