Chronomancer (Time Mage Saga Book 1)

by Mackenzie Morris

The man placed his hand over Jack's mouth. He leaned down to whisper to him. "Shh, shh, shh. Quiet now. Don't struggle. You are going to remain quiet and come with me. If you scream or fight me, Elizabeth Dawson will die. Do you understand?"

  Jack nodded his head, breathing frantically through his nose. He gasped when he was released. His legs tingled to run. His brain begged him to leave. But his heart made him stay while the stranger bound a leather sheathe around Jack's left arm, locking it in place with an electronic band.

  "There. No warping away until we say you can, little Chronomancer." The man draped a long cloak across Jack's shoulders to hide the strange device around his arm before locking arms with him. "This way. Remember, not a peep out of you."

  He stared up into those haunting eyes that were foggy with a mystical haze, blurring iris and pupil like an eclipsed sun.

  The man dug out a creased photograph from the pocket of his pants. He held it up in Jack's face. "Is this enough proof of life for you?"

  The image on the glossy paper called to him, but he grimaced the instant he recognized what it was. A dark-haired teenage girl with tanned olive skin was bound in the corner of a room beside a bed, her wrists bound to the aluminum bedpost. Her ebony locks were a tangled mess and the pink camisole and thin cotton shorts did little to hide the bruises along her arms and neck. Ellie.

  "Yeah? You get it? We have your girlfriend, but in order to keep her alive, you need to cooperate with us. Is that understood?"

  He nodded his head, biting his tongue to hold back the wave of anger that he desperately needed to release in toxic words at the man. Cursing or arguing would do nothing but harm the situation. All he cared about in that moment was getting to Ellie. Jack may have failed her in the past, but he swore on all he believed in that he would save her this time.

  Jack stumbled along beside the man who dwarfed even him with his towering height. The man must have been seven feet tall. That only made Jack more nervous. Was this stranger with the Inquisition? The purple shirt made him think the opposite. So, the Zurvan Syndicate found him even there. He looked around for Niki and Opal, but they were nowhere to be found.

  His mind went blank, blocking out the millions of blazing questions assaulting him. There was too much to cope with. It was a defensive mechanism, removing his immediate emotional response. Like a robot, Jack walked calmly beside the agent through the streets that had become gradually filled with citizens before the nightly festivities began.

  The agent tightened his grip on Jack's arm, steering him down a side alley towards a large warehouse at the far end.

  It was secluded, with thick walls of wood and stone, the perfect place for murder to go unnoticed and for torture to go unheard. Any manner of horrific things could await him inside. When they stopped at the looming doors to the entrance, a twisting sickening pit grew in his stomach. Jack heard his heartbeat pounding slowly in his ears, his hands grew slick and sticky, and his fingers tingled while trembling uncontrollably.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  Jack stepped into the stagnant air of the warehouse and waited for further instruction. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset his captor, especially if Ellie's life was on the line. He would do anything demanded of him.

  The man flipped on a switch behind him with an audible click, bringing the warehouse to life.

  Syndicate agents in their purple suits or matching jumpsuits scurried around between computers, wardrobes of costumes, and crates filled with firearms. They carried rifles with sniper scopes, grenade launchers, and belts with multiple pistols in holsters. A few were sparring in a training area to the left where they went hand to hand behind white paper partitions, their shadows dancing on the screens in the bluish glow from the computer monitors.

  "I am Elric Mason. Welcome to base Mark 16, Jack Carter. Here, we have all the essentials we have at our headquarters compound. High-speed internet, gourmet chefs, and electricity. What is it? You look surprised or confused, one. Is it the internet? Yes, we have internet in Renaissance Venice. See, the thing about time travel is that we can change time. We have the ability to alter the past. We brought satellites here and launched them from a remote location in Nepal. It was hard work with the logistics of transporting all of our modern technology to this time, but we made it work."

  It was a strange conglomeration of modern technology, hidden away in the middle of Venice. If anyone managed to stumble across the warehouse, it would have dire consequences and send ripples through the events of history. However, no one there appeared to care. Agents went about their business as if they did this every day.

  A woman in a long white dress with slits up the sides and a tall stiff collar barked orders at a group of men who were clothed in only short pants. Each of their chests had been marked with a large X in red paint.

  Apparently, the man noticed Jack's curiosity. He nodded towards them. "Avelayans. That is Mistress Dawn. She whips the future Time Knights into shape, weeding out the weak or sickly to become servants. The others are assigned to our Iskaydrian agents to bond and be bodyguards. They will never be on the same level as us. Their blood marks them as inferior. They were born as sacrifices, so that is what they will remain. But you, Jack? You were born for greater things."

  A middle-aged woman with her grey-streaked black hair pinned on top of her head saluted the man. "Welcome back. What are your orders?"

  "Sierra, take our new friend to the medical wing. Get him checked out and cleaned up. He is needed for dinner with me in an hour."

  "Yes, Director."

  Director? This man was the director of the Zurvan Syndicate? All hope drained from Jack with that realization. There he was, his arm bound, and a prisoner in a Syndicate compound without Niki at his side. Even if these people didn't decide to kill him, his life was over. He should have stayed with his Time Knight, despite the beating he took. Niki could have defended him and fought off the Director, but not now. Jack bit his lip. How could he have been so stupid to not listen to everyone? Mr. Allen had been insistent on him staying at Niki's side. Now he understood why. But it was too late to go back.

  The doors slammed shut behind him, locking him inside the hive of agents. With little to no chance of getting out alive in case of a fight, Jack resigned himself to his fate. He followed the woman, without complaint or a single whimper, into a back room that was filled with rows of showers along a white tile wall.

  The woman pulled on a pair of latex gloves, snapping them loudly against her wrists. She stepped over to a white paper partition with a medical cart behind it. "Remove your clothes. I must inspect you. It's a simple health examination to ensure you haven't contracted anything that could infect our agents here. The armband remains on."

  Jack stripped, feeling icy and detached. He was a boiling whirlpool inside his head, but he felt nothing from the outside. For those few minutes while Sierra poked, prodded, and pinched him, Jack felt nothing. Unlike the encounter with the inquisitor the night before, there was no panic attack, no tears, no hyperventilating. Now, there was a fog hanging on him, sheltering his vulnerable self from feeling that panic. Maybe it was him acknowledging defeat. Maybe it was him giving up while watching the last slivers of hope vanish with each passing moment. Whatever the reason, Jack was a wall of stone.

  Sierra pulled off her gloves and tossed them into a trashcan before picking up a clipboard and pen. "We need to know some information about your physical health before we proceed. I'm going to ask you a few questions and you will answer them to the best of your ability. We will begin. Are you up-to-date on all vaccinations?"

  "I had to be for school."

  "Good. Do you have any allergies?" Sierra asked, marking through boxes on her sheet of paper.

  "Blackberries, but it's not really a big deal."

  "Do you have any blood-transmittable diseases?"

  He shifted on his feet. "No."

  "Perfect. Do you smoke?"

  "No."

  "Drink?"

 
Jack held his hands in front of him to help cover up. "I'm too young."

  "That's not what I asked, is it? Do you drink?"

  "Sometimes."

  "I see. Any drug use?" Sierra asked, tapping her pen on the side of the clipboard. "Even marijuana or prescription drugs?"

  "No. Never."

  "And how many sexual partners have you had?"

  "None."

  She raised a thin eyebrow. "Not even one?"

  "No. I'm a . . . a virgin."

  "All right. Now, shower. There is soap and a towel waiting for you. I will lay out your jumpsuit. Hurry it up. You will get a haircut before meeting the Director for dinner. We will make sure you look presentable."

  Under the watchful eye of the agent, Jack stepped onto the frigid tiles and turned the knob. He jumped when the icy water hit his skin, but his tense muscles soon relaxed once the water began to warm, filling the room with steam. He lathered his skin and hair with the harsh lemon-smelling soap that made him itchy in the places it lingered too long. The harsh bubbles popped loudly, but he ignored it. He ignored the prying eyes and the rashes developing on his feet from the chemicals. Jack ignored it all. It was about survival now. Somehow, his normally feeble emotions knew the difference and helped him by making him feel nothing at all.

  There was only one other time in his life when Jack felt that dreadful stillness. It was the day that had changed his life forever. He started with a panic attack that turned into a mental block. That singular event in middle school had molded him out of fear and guilt then cemented that image into permanency. He had survived that, but he was not sure he would live to see the sunrise.

  Jack shut the water off then dried himself and stepped into the soft lavender-colored jumpsuit that the agent handed to him. It was a bit baggy on his slender frame, but long enough. He grimaced when the blades of a pair of shears scraped across the back of his neck. Snip after quick snip, an inch of his messy brown hair fell to the tiles. He caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall, his hair standing up short and spiky. It was the shortest his hair had ever been, making his face look leaner than normal. His freckles stood out, and he appeared even younger than usual.

  Once Sierra had wiped away the stray hairs, she nodded. "Acceptable. This way."

  Smelling of toxic citrus, Jack stayed close to the agent while they weaved through the cramped warehouse to a solitary wooden door at the back that was oddly out of place against the riveted metal. Another agent in a long-tailed purple tuxedo bowed before opening the door. Jack paused until the female agent pushed him across the threshold into the cinnamon apple-scented room.

  Bookcases stretched from floor to ceiling where crystal chandeliers glittered. The lights casted shadows onto the heavy mahogany table that was set with porcelain plates, silverware, and wine glasses. Gold-edged napkins had been folded into swans on the plates, the same ivory color as the lilies in the blue glass vase in the middle. Silver trays of roasted meats, candied yams, and bacon-wrapped green beans made Jack's mouth water.

  The Director stood at the opposite end of the table by an electric fireplace surrounded by stone slabs. He sipped from a crystal glass of red wine while watching the flames. "Thank you for bringing him, Sierra. Leave us now."

  Jack took a shaky breath when the door clicked shut behind him, locking him in the lavish lion's den.

  "Sit, Mr. Carter. I imagine you're hungry after all that. I must apologize for the rough treatment. I do hope that arm band is not giving you any trouble. If things go well here, it will be removed in a short time."

  Jack took his seat in the high-backed chair and waited. Was this a trap? Was the food poisoned?

  "Welcome. I do wish we had met under better circumstances. You look just like your father. If only Samuel could see you now."

  "He cant. He's dead."

  Elric smiled at him. He picked up a bottle of wine from the table and refilled his glass. "Of course. I only meant it as a compliment. You are a handsome young man. The picture of a perfect Iskaydrian."

  "I'm only part Iskaydrian."

  "And it shows. I saw everything on our cameras. Our ancestral genetics are not called the master DNA for nothing. We are a beautiful, strong . . . sexual people."

  Jack took the napkin from his plate and crushed the delicate swan in his lap. The Director's gaze burned into him hotter than the realization that seared into him. "I'm not interested. You were watching me shower, weren't you? Oh, God. I'm seventeen. What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Calm down, please. Eating on an upset stomach will only make you sick. I meant nothing subversive. Forgive me for misspeaking. I am not accustomed to having interaction on this level with a person of your tender age. Before we dine, I am sure you have many questions. Why don't we cut past the fluff and get to the meat of why you are here? You are the only son of the former Director Carter."

  Jack stuttered through the news. "D-Director?"

  "You didn't know? Interesting. I thought for sure that his hard-headed Time Knight would have mentioned a detail like that. Your father, Samuel Carter, was our fearless leader for nearly a decade. He was revered in our ranks as being a time-traveling prodigy. He could warp from location and era to the next five times before having to rest. When he did rest, he was only down for a couple of hours before be could go again. He also was the only Chronomancer we ever found who could transport more than three Time Knights."

  "I thought we could only warp with one."

  The Director leaned against the back of his chair. "Most Chronometers are limited to one. Pure-blood or those who are half pure-blood Iskaydrian, can take two. One night when six of our Avelayan trainees were stranded in a war between African tribes in some very early time, Samuel warped in and rescued all of them in one go. They shared blood then held onto him. He passed out once he arrived back at Headquarters, but he did it. We made him our director before the next morning."

  "Six? That's incredible."

  "Indeed. Samuel was a man to be revered and to learn from."

  "But my father wasn't full or half Iskaydrian."

  "No, he wasn't." Elric took a seat and leaned across the table, studying Jack over the platters of food. "That's what made him even more special. We wanted to find out why he was the way he was. What made Samuel capable of doing the miraculous things he was capable of? We had our best and brightest scientists analyzing every part of his DNA. Every chromosome was mapped and studied. They ran brain scan after brain scan and explored every inch of his body. Do you know what they found?"

  Jack shook his head, wringing his napkin in his hands.

  "A chain of mutations that made him into a super-kind of human. There was only one other place we were able to locate the same mutation. His sperm cells."

  "Me."

  "Yes. We believe that you, as his offspring, may have the same mutations. That would make you a god among mere mortals, Jack."

  He had to know. "If my . . . never mind."

  "No, please, continue. I can answer any and all questions you have. It was expected that you would need to know many things."

  "If my father was so important to the Syndicate, why did you kill him and nearly every other person in my family?"

  "Why would you think that we had anything to do with those tragic events?" Elric asked, refilling his glass from the crystal decanter. "We have enemies, Jack. The Inquisition of Purity wants to destroy us and eliminate the entire Iskaydrian bloodline from existence. They are responsible for the butchering of your family, not us"

  "That's wrong. Mr. Lambert told me everything. I know that my father left the Syndicate because he disagreed with the way things were being done. He left, but he knew too much, so you had him killed!"

  "Very well. Yes, we did. But Samuel knew the potential consequences that awaited him if he left. No one leaves the Zurvan Syndicate and lives to tell our secretes. No one. Your father, with his special DNA, was no exception. We did what we had to do in order to tie up loose ends. It would have been a dire secur
ity issue if we hadn't. Now, listen, I know that makes you upset. I would be upset as well if that had been my family. I understand."

  "Why do you think I will help you?" Jack asked.

  "Because we can save you from the true evil in this world. This very moment, the Inquisition of Purity is hunting down and killing Iskaydrians at unparalleled rates, rates that top their killings during the crusades, the Nazi regime, and the witch hunts. Yes, they had inquisitors in each of those and more all around the globe. They like to disguise themselves behind the veil of honor, purity, and piety, but they are evil underneath. They have their sick tendrils embedded in the clergy, Wall Street, and even the current United States government. They never sleep, and they won't stop until everyone with a drop of Iskaydrian blood is dead. They want our race to be extinct. We cannot allow this genocide to continue. That is why we need you. We believe you may have the power to stop the Inquisition once and for all."

  "Why should I trust you? Why? You just admitted to killing my father."

  Elric chuckled and pushed his bright red hair back from his forehead. "We eliminated a security threat. We snuffed out one life to save millions. Samuel sought to undermine our efforts across the globe to save people from some of humanity's worst tragedies. We are the heroes in this story, Jack. That's the Zurvan Syndicate's purpose. To rewrite history for the better. Tell me, Jack, if you could go back in time and stop World War II, would you do it? Would you go back and stop the slave trade? Would you stop the fires in London?"

  "I . . ."

  "What about the attacks on September 11, 2001? What about the holocaust or the genocide of millions of innocent people all around the world? What about the wars in the Middle East? The refugee crisis? The Lincoln assassination? The Civil War? The list goes on and on. Tell me you wouldn't choose to stop any of those things from happening."

  He had a point. "I would want to help. I would want to save lives. But changing the past changes the present. Saving the life of one person may end a thousand or keep even more from ever existing. Is it worth it, though?"

  "Of course it is. These people we are saving are our fellow Iskaydrians, Jack. They are our brothers and sisters. Their blood flows through our veins. We have to put our people first. If you agree to join us, swear your oaths, and take the Zurvan brands, you will have a luxury apartment in our modern-day headquarters, an extravagant salary, and everything you could ever need or want. You will never be without anything again. You will be untouchable."