Age of Mystics (Saga of Mystics Book 1)

by Chris Walters

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The Hermit had allowed Cliff to get closer in recent days. When they walked, the man still walked significantly ahead of the boy. However, six to eight paces were better than the twenty to thirty yards with which they had started. They had been walking around the city for two weeks, literally around the city, going from the north, around the outside east of the city, down to the south by the base, where they had seen the battle at the army base. Then they had turned up the west side of the city, where the Hermit had destroyed that group of soldiers, if they really were soldiers. It wasn’t the first time Cliff had seen his companion annihilate anyone who attacked him, but it was the first time anyone had recognized him. He had taken the time to wonder about that, but he dared not ask the Hermit, nor was the man likely to answer him.

  Now, they were back up the North-West side of town, coming up to the Air Force Academy, which simply wasn’t far from where Cliff lived. He began to wonder if his brother had ever come home, and what had become of his father’s body. On their nightly stops, the Hermit had taken to reading Cliff’s D&D books, he seemed particularly fascinated by the Dungeon Master’s Guide (which showed the rules of the game) and the Spell Compendium. Cliff was surprised the man knew how to read, because he clearly didn’t know how to speak. He seemed particularly interested in the info on gems. Whenever he got the chance, Cliff would look at whatever the man read, and a couple of nights before, he figured it out. The man was collecting diamonds, as well as other gems, but mostly diamonds. He was reading about focusing stones in the lore. The Hermit had embedded gems into his staff, he had worn the rings that would fit, but carried and collected all jewels he could. He was focusing the power he exhibited through the stones. For the past two days, Cliff had been working on his understanding of this and had even helped the Hermit to “ready” some stones. When it came down to it, Cliff seemed to finally find some usefulness, he was able to work the gems better than even the Hermit, but he needed the Hermit to imbue them with power. Because of this, after readying them, the Hermit had given Cliff stones with the ability to cause fear, to increase his strength and stamina for the walks, and one for hiding. Cliff had put the stones in the little pouch he used for his dice.

  Suddenly, the disheveled man stopped and almost seemed to sniff the air. He turned toward Cliff and pointed to the bushes, a little bit off the road. They sat in the bushes quietly and waited. After a couple of minutes, Cliff heard the sound of people talking. The sound was getting closer. A group of maybe thirty people were slowly walking from the east across an open field between them and the freeway.

  Cliff turned toward his new friend and watched the man’s face, riddled with concern. The Hermit pointed at something up the road the other way. Cliff peered through the foliage and saw what the man was pointing at. There was a squad of either cadets or air force guys moving up on a direct course that would have them collide with the group of people walking across the field.

  The Hermit rapidly pantomimed some directions to Cliff. He pointed to Cliff, then to the large group, indicating he wanted Cliff to tell them to stop. Then he pointed to himself, seeming to indicate he would go deal with the air force guys. Cliff thought he understood, so he nodded and began to creep his way in the bushes to a turn where he could get across the road without being seen by the military people. He looked behind him and the hermit had already moved out, silently disappearing into the brush in the opposite direction of the way Cliff went.

  Cliff snuck around and into bushes on the other side of the road, closer to the large group. He couldn’t see them anymore. It was like they had suddenly all vanished. As he stuck his head out of the bushes to get a better view, he heard a woman’s voice above him say, “Don’t move boy, or I swear to God, I will snap your neck.”

  Cliff froze in place. Turning his head to look up, he saw the most beautiful young woman clinging to a tree above him. She leapt down so lightly, he thought he must be looking at an elven goddess. Suddenly coming to his senses, he blurted out, “There are men coming up the road. You have to hide yourself.”

  The woman grabbed his shirt and quickly pulled him down into the high grass, where they both crouched for a few moments until the cadets (which is clearly what they were, now that they were close enough for Cliff to identify them) came into view around a corner.

  “I am telling you sir,” the one in front said to a man right behind him, “there was somebody here. Right here.” The two were standing right where Cliff and the Hermit had been just moments before.

  The officer looked around in all directions, as the rest of his squad also seemed to be doing. “I don’t see anyone now, Morris. Ah, never mind, good eyes.” The officer pointed in the opposite direction and all of them ran back the way they had come.

  When enough time had passed, the woman turned Cliff around to face her, those stunning green eyes burrowing into his soul. “Who are you, and who were you with that the cadets are now chasing?”

  “I am Cliff Ko,” he sputtered out, “They are chasing after the Hermit.”

  The young woman let out a truly delightful laugh. “The Hermit?” she asked, “That is just an urban legend, kid.” She made some kind of hand motion in the air and the other thirty people stood up from their very effective hiding places. “Nice to meet you, Cliff. My name is Natalee Ward, let me take you to my Uncle.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Things were falling apart for Miles. As quickly as he had gained some level of authority, it seemed Sensei Fine had turned on him. He was still a leader of the Tigers, but was relegated to managing things, rather than people. He was in charge of stores, he was in charge of housing, and he was in charge of weapon registry. He even had quite a few villagers reporting to him, but the warriors all looked on him as unimportant now. He knew it was Meyer, that prick had somehow turned the Major against him. He needed to figure out how to get back into the inner circle.

  Sensei Fine had told him to make a report later that day, and he needed to show his worth, so he was pouring over the hand-written notes he had made and trying to come up with a plan to do something special. This was a hard task when talking about inventories.

  One of the villagers poked his head into the tent. “Sensei is calling a meeting.”

  Miles grabbed all of his paperwork together and headed out the door. Tardiness could not help his cause. As he walked toward the stage, he saw Meyer with that smug smirk on his fat face. He saw Sensei walk out of the Command tent and made a bee line for his leader, but Fine looked at him and nodded, not stopping for a second before climbing the stairs to address the people. The guards closed rank behind him. It was clear that no one was to be on the stage with him.

  Everyone hushed immediately as Fine took the stage. “Friends,” Sensei began with a large smile, “I am so proud of the work you have done. In such a few short days, you have turned a rag tag group of scared people into this...” he pointed out to the crowd with an open hand, “a community of survivors.” Some people cheered. Eric waited a moment for the applause, then continued. “The stubbornness of the former leaders of this outpost notwithstanding, we all know what they have done. We will finally deal with the last of them shortly. But first, let’s talk about the future. If there is one thing our victory has shown us, it is that this base was not made for the new kind of warfare. It is not safe.”

  The murmured agreement that spread through the crowd did not surprise Damiano as much as the effect that a true leader had on a large crowd. Eric continued, “It has been more than two weeks since the Event happened, and our lives changed. We must look beyond survival and into being a thriving community. Can we agree on this?” The cheers were louder this time.

  “As such, we will be leaving this base in the morning. Our new community site will be the resort up the hill.” He waited, and the assent was exactly what he seemed to be waiting for. The hotel resort in town was one of the best known in the nation, and it made sense as a stronghold. With cliffs at its back, three small
lakes for water and fish, streams throughout, a hotel, bungalows, etc. all around and the high ground to see any force coming toward them, the resort was an ideal place to defend and had enough housing to support their growing community. Miles also liked it because he finally saw his in; he would be the steward of the goods and services that keep the community thriving. Meyer was too stupid to realize, as Damiano looked over at the smug bastard, that it was the control of goods that would bring power once they moved to a more defensible position.

  Eric made a hand motion and some of the warriors went back behind the stage. “I want you all to gather all of the belongings that you can carry and we will move out at first light tomorrow morning, but first, we must deal with the acts of a traitor.”

  All eyes turned as the two warriors brought the Old Man back to the stage. Every meal break, he had been brought up to the stage, where a member of his senior staff had been told to confess, and not doing so, they had been either killed or maimed in front of the crowd. At first the crowd did not take well to it, but it was almost entertainment now. Eric Fine knew what he was doing, he was showing power and getting the crowd on his side all at the same time that he was solidifying his power and eliminating a rival. Early on, the General had fought against his captors every time he was brought on stage. But now, with all of his friends dead, it was a sense of resignation that covered the old soldier’s face as he slowly walked up the short stairs.

  Eric turned toward his former commander, “General Allan Stone, you stand accused of treason, murder, and the subjugation of the people. Will you confess your crimes, or meet the fate of your senior staff?”

  Stone had remained silent and stoic throughout the torture and executions of his senior staff, so everyone expected him to continue. But if they assumed that, they were wrong. They knew it when he cleared his throat. This seemed to surprise even Sensei, who raised his eyebrows as he turned toward the man.

  The Old Man began, “Eric, you have won. You have taken my base, and killed my friends and loyal soldiers.” His voice rose as he was clearly trying to win over the crowd. “They call you Sensei, which means Teacher, but you are no teacher. You are a dictator, an overlord. There is an appropriate Japanese term for that as well, Shogun. You have...”

  The words stuck in his throat as Eric reached out and clawed his fingers into the man’s neck. If one was close enough to the stage, they could hear the horrible sound of the General’s larynx crushing like a cardboard box. Blood spurted out of his mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp into the arms of the soldiers at his side. General Allan Stone, former base commander of Fort Carson, Colorado, was dead where he stood.

  The silence following the quick and deadly motion of their leader was soon disturbed by a whispered word, which became a spoken word and eventually a chant, “Shogun. Shogun! SHOGUN!! SHOGUN!!” The crowd cheered and chanted for their leader and Sensei Eric Fine was no more, he was now Shogun Eric Fine. From that moment on, people simply called him sir or Shogun.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Ted listened to the tale the young boy told of his travels with the mythical bogeyman, the Hermit. At any other time, he would have thought the boy was making stories up. But, their current increase in abilities and the actions of his own family told him not to discount anything the boy said. Cliff Ko related the killing of some dangerous teens, a battle at Fort Carson, the burning of the south of the city, and the looting of jewelry stores. It was the last part that stuck out to him.

  “So, you were able to put the powers into these gems?” He asked.

  The boy nodded and pulled out a small pouch, explaining the power in each gem and then showing that power. The fear one was the most intriguing, but it was the idea of the possibilities that this could bring that most interested Ted. “Cliff,” he asked softly, “Do you want to join our group? We could use someone with your talent.”

  Cliff looked at Ted with wonder. “What talent?” He asked, “I only readied the gems so the Hermit could put his power into them.”

  “Your talent has great promise.” Ted began to explain, “You ‘readying’ of the gems means those powers can be used by others. I can think of one that can be used right now, but it is pointless unless you want to spend some time with us.”

  The boy looked back in the direction they had come. Ted thought he was looking for the man he called The Hermit, but none of their people had seen any sign of him. Even Nat had not been able to find a trace of his passing. Ted believed there was such a man out there, but it could easily also be the overactive imagination of a pre-teen boy. Either way, Ted didn’t want to leave this boy alone in this world if he could help it. “What about the Hermit?” the boy asked.

  “If he shows up, he is welcome in our group as well.” Ted answered.

  The boy thought for a moment and stuck out his hand to shake Ted’s. Ted was amused by the seriousness of the young guy, but at the same time, maybe that seriousness is just what the current situation required. “So,” he asked, “are you ready to put that wonderful talent to use for us?” Cliff nodded excitedly and ted called out into the growing darkness of dusk, “Kyle!”

  Kyle rushed up to where his uncle and the boy were talking. “Cliff is going to prepare a gem for you,” he said, “I want you to try to attach your light into the gem.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Jordan was exhausted, but clearly not as exhausted as Emma was. Emma had grown vines thick enough to use as ropes and they had spent the better part of two days getting themselves down about one hundred and fifty feet of sheer cliff face. It was a snail’s pace, it was dangerous, and it was grueling work. In the middle of the night on the second day of their efforts, Jordan felt his foot touchdown on a hard, flat surface. It was dark where clouds, and the cliff’s shadow dulled the moon’s light. Even with their eyes adjusted, they could see nothing.

  They rested on the patch of ground they had landed on, as the vines grew around them to give them shelter and if possible, it became even darker. They said nothing to each other, but just fell asleep in each other’s arms, the darkness and noiselessness of their little nest creating the perfect environment for rest. Finally, out of the concrete garden prison in which they had been stranded for a couple of weeks, they would now get to see what had become of this world.

  A MONTH BEHIND THEM

  “The earliest man crawled from his hunting and gathering existence into his own space and somehow made fire, something only nature had made before.” Dr. Alice Weathers – Introduction to Anthropology and Human Origins

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Skirting notice was a monumental task all by itself, but Jordan and Emma had an effective strategy that had kept them safe for the last couple of weeks. After coming down from the Mountain, they had hidden in nests which Emma’s power had created during the day, and only travelled at night. Jordan sat with Emma in his arms, her soft breathing comforting him as he lay there. He had been awake for a little bit, but it was hard to tell what time it was, because it was so dark inside the nests. He guessed it was late afternoon.

  Feeling Emma stir let him know he was most likely correct. She had a connection to the plants, and seemed to wake just at the time each day when the sun had gone down. Small, edible fruit of a type Jordan did not know, but whose taste he absolutely loved, grew out of the ceiling part of the nest to sustain them. Emma had grown better and better at using her ability to improve their food and shelter. He didn’t know where he would have been had it not been for her.

  The vines began to unravel shortly after they ate in silence. They always remained in silence until they could be sure they were safe. This had become almost a policy after once opening the nest and nearly being caught by a group of soldiers from the base. Since it was relatively close, and because Jordan lived there, they had made a bee-line for Fort Carson as soon as they had come down from the Mountain. What they had found was horrifying.

  There had been no people left, though it could not have
been long since they left, as there were signs of a recent departure all over the base. Jordan and Emma had searched all over the base for supplies, and had come upon mass graves and burning bodies. The most recent addition to the graves was a man that Jordan knew. The base commander, General Alan Stone’s body was atop one of the mounds, no one had even tried to bury him. While looking at this, they had their first run in with soldiers.

  It wasn’t really a run in, as much as a view. They had heard people coming and just got out of sight when some soldiers came into the area and picked up Stone’s body and threw it into the fire pit. They intently listened to the conversation of the men as they rested next to the burning bodies.

  “Why do we always have to do the shit duty?” said the first. This was the beginning to almost any conversation about duty in the Army, so it wasn’t too surprising.

  The second man replied, “I don’t know. Want to go ask the Shogun for better duty?”

  “I didn’t say that. It just seems like the guys from his civilian biz get better treatment, and we always get the shit detail.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was wicked how he crushed the Old Man, wasn’t it?”

  “Hell, yeah it was. Let’s not talk about it though, gives me the creeps. Let’s finish up here, so we can catch up to the convoy.”

  “Alright.”

  The two men cleaned up a little, shoveling dirt on top of a few of the mounds, before hastily departing. Emma and Jordan only came out of their hiding place after they were sure they were alone, and Emma finally spoke.

  “When they say the Old Man,” she began, “Are they talking about General Stone?”

  Jordan nodded, “That was him on top of the mound that they threw into the fire. Did you see the only thing they left?”