by Ben Hale
Then the view began to darken.
Imperceptible at first, the surrounding area gradually faded from view. The early morning light lost its power in a matter of seconds, until abruptly it winked out. They were plunged into darkness so absolute that Wolf lost sight of the scope in front of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but what he heard caused him to hesitate.
The whispers were faint at first. Then he realized they were not coming from his team. He flinched as something sharp struck his inner ear. Then images joined the voices. He'd been a Navy SEAL for over a decade, and in that time had killed many of his country's enemies. Each one flashed before him in a cascade of bloody bodies. Angry and vengeful, the voices took on a condemning tone, and the images shifted to the families of those he'd killed. Sons who he'd made fatherless. Wives who he'd made widows. He had never seen them, but somehow knew who they were.
Self-loathing and hatred flooded him, and his hands began to tremble. Distantly he heard shots being fired, but could not seem to grasp where they had come from. How could he have done such acts? How could he have ever believed they were necessary? He'd killed, in cold blood when necessary, and their blood screamed at him for retribution.
What kind of a creature was he? How could he deserve to live after what he'd done to so many? His body began to shake from the guilt, and emotion settled onto his chest like a massive anchor. He did not deserve to exist. He had never deserved to exist . . .
Hearing his admission, the voices became a shrieking hiss, calling for him to give up his mind. Perhaps if another took control of his mind then his body could atone for his heinous acts. He just needed to let go. There was no need to shed any more tears . . .
Was he crying?
He shuddered, and like breaching the surface from a deep dive his awareness returned in force. The voices remained, but were momentarily dimmed. Anger filled him at the attempted twisting of his mind, and his memory flashed to the week he'd been a POW in Sudan.
Snarling, he forced the whispers from his skull, and turned his attention to his team. He could not see them, but he could hear them. Some muttered for relief, others were crying, and two sounded like they were arguing why they should kill themselves. To hear a hardened Navy SEAL cry stabbed fear into Wolf like nothing ever had.
Wolf shoved Wilson out of the way and activated the motor of the Zodiac. It coughed, but failed to catch. He tried again, and then again. Frantically he fought the engine—until suddenly it sputtered to life. Punching the throttle, he held on as the Zodiac accelerated. The other SEALs in the boat bounced around, and he prayed that they didn't fall out.
As if sensing their escape, the Dark pressed around him and pushed into the engine. The motor began to sputter, causing them to slow—but it was too late. The view had lightened, and a moment later they burst into the light. The whispers evaporated as they bounced into the open. Then he saw his men.
Two appeared to be dead. Both of the injuries were self-inflicted. Others had suffered as well, their skin darkened to the color of smoke. Their fingers were curled like a beast's claws. Each sucked in a desperate breath and their eyes snapped open, frantic and agitated, but alive. A few more minutes of the psychological attack would no doubt have proven fatal for all of them.
Wolf turned to search for the other boat, but it was nowhere to be found. He clicked his earbud and shouted for Duck, but there was no response. Out of options, he punched Wilson in the face, causing him to blink back to awareness.
"Hey! . . . what happened?" Wilson said. His hands were still shaking but his eyes were clear.
"Get on the motor," Wolf barked. "If the area starts to darken again you get them clear. Understood?"
Training took over, and Wilson lifted himself up with a grunt. Before he'd even grabbed the stick, Wolf had begun divesting himself of weapons. In seconds he was down to his combat fatigues.
"You're not going back in there," Wilson said, his expression aghast.
"The other boat didn't come out," Wolf said. "I'm going to see if the cloud's power extends underwater. It might be the only way to get them out."
Wilson's gaze hardened. If there was anything a SEAL wouldn't do, it was leave a man behind. Wolf shucked his boots and dived overboard. He swam hard until the whispers started. Then he ducked under the water and kept swimming, relieved that the attack fell silent. After thirty seconds he rose, took a breath, listened, and then dived back under.
The view was absolute black, and silent as death. As if anticipating his appearance, the voices screamed into his mind the moment his head broke free. Gritting his teeth, he focused on listening for his team. Then he dived again.
He swam hard, but not to the point of fatigue. He couldn’t risk being trapped inside the Dark. On the fourth breach he heard the familiar splatter of waves lapping against rubber. The lack of sound from his men was disconcerting, but he was already committed. Estimating the distance to be twenty yards, he swam underwater the whole way.
Holding his breath, he extended his hands above the surface and touched rubber and rope. Feeling his way to the back, he found the stick and fumbled for the starter. His lungs burned, but he kept working until he felt the engine sputter. Steeling himself, he rose just long enough to catch a fast breath and then dived under.
The assault from the Dark was deafening, but he'd already retreated before it could gain a foothold in his mind. This time he heard groans from his men, and they galvanized him into action. Kicking hard, he turned the boat in what he hoped was the right direction, and kept pressing the starter.
It failed, repeatedly.
Giving up, he ducked under the boat and swam to the front. From there he grabbed the lead rope and pulled it into the water. Then he wrapped it around his shoulder and began to swim, rising only when he had to. After twenty minutes of straight swimming his energy was beginning to lag, but he refused to give up.
Throwing himself into the motion, he swam as hard as he could, and only surfaced when the need threatened to engulf him. Each time the Dark assailed him. Each time he prevailed. With all his strength he continued to swim.
Ten yards became twenty, and then thirty. Soon he'd gone over a hundred yards, and still the darkness pressed against him. Had he gone in the wrong direction? Was he carrying his team deeper into the Dark? Even a slight change would drastically impact his destination.
His strength waning, he fought on. Defying the Dark's attempt to subvert his will, he thought of the families of his men, of the children that he refused to leave fatherless. His muscles ached and burned, but he forced them to move. Just one more yard, he told himself. Just one more stroke.
The darkness did not abate, and his body began to fail. Only his memory of the SEAL training kept him going. In a single week the Master Chief had tried to break him, but Wolf had refused to quit. He didn't fail then, and he wouldn't now. Gathering himself for a final push, he counted the beats of his thundering heart, daring himself to go on. Each time he surfaced the Dark's words became more compelling.
Just give up, it said. You can rest.
His body wanted to listen, but his mind found greater strength. It sounded just like the Master Chief, and the words sparked a fire in his gut. He'd lost count of the distance, of his direction. There was only the will to pull the water toward himself, of the sensation of the rope tearing into his shoulder.
He came up for a rasping breath and ducked under again. Two strokes later he realized that he hadn't heard anything. Hope lifted him to the surface again, and he finally saw a faint tinge of light on the surface.
Relief exploded through him, but he forced himself to swim further. Now that he could swim on the surface, he gasped for breath between every stroke. A moment later he spotted the second Zodiac and turned toward it.
"Captain?" Wilson called, and he recognized the voice.
The other motor gunned to life and the boat swung toward him. It glided next to him, and several hands reached down. A wave of nausea filled him as he finally all
owed his body to relax, and he vomited into the water. He feebly held on as they dragged him aboard and removed the rope from his raw shoulder.
He fell inert, struggling to issue orders. "Get bindings on anyone . . . not back to normal."
The engine was already surging, and the boat tilted as they turned. As they raced away Wolf saw that the sun had finally managed to crest the top of the cloud, revealing the breadth of the Dark. Stretching to twenty thousand feet in height, it expanded from the far north to the far south, and loomed like a massive black cliff. The sheer scope of the cloud sent a chill through Wolf's soaked clothing.
He'd faced insurgents, survived countless firefights, and even been a POW. He had the scars of numerous high-risk combat missions scattered over his body, but nothing had prepared him for such a threat. His strength gone, he lapsed into unconsciousness.
With fear in his heart.
Chapter 2: The Inside Man
"Ready?" Hawk asked.
Tess threw him a look. As a druid bonded to a phoenix, Hawk had lived for thousands of years. He was one of the most powerful people on the planet—yet a week ago he had been trapped and nearly killed by the Harbingers on Mt. Elbrus.
Her lips tightened as she recalled the moment her birth mother had revealed herself to be the Master. In the few months that Tess had known her, Alice had seemed sincere and concerned. Lurking beneath the façade, she'd ordered the murder of thousands.
"Did you ever suspect her?" she asked impulsively.
Hawk sighed. "I had no reason to. She took refuge among us to escape your father. With her magic stripped from her—"
"Not all of her magic," Tess said darkly.
"True," he conceded, "but we still do not know what that power is. When she fled to us her other magic had been taken. I did not think an enemy would go to such lengths in order to gain access to the Guild."
The guilt in Hawk's tone caused Tess to touch his arm. "She tricked us all."
"She tricked me." Hawk's eyes turned on her, and she saw the rage of a phoenix reflected in them. "I am the Guildmaster. She spilt blood because I did not discover her."
Tess jerked her head. "Whatever she did in the past, whoever she betrayed, we took away her greatest asset, her anonymity." She looked away, still uncertain if she'd made the right choice.
The video clip of Tess and Hawk fighting for their lives on Mt. Elbrus had gone viral. After thousands of years of secrecy, proof of magic had been broadcast to every corner of the world. Half a dozen forms of magic had been on display, not to mention clear images of the enormous Iseonix, a phoenix, a steel entity, and the Dark. The video ended with Hawk and Tess purposefully erupting Mt. Elbrus, a disturbing reminder of how powerful magic could be.
Tess shuddered at the memory. She'd done it to reveal the Harbingers to the mages, not the mages to Earth. But there had been no choice. Prior to the incident Alice had gained near total control over the mage government, a fact unknown to all but a few. In crystal clarity the video showed Alice confessing her role and her desire to conquer the planet. As a result, the mages had rallied against her over the last week. That positive was marred by the impact on the unsuspecting aurens.
Chaos had erupted overnight. Governments tried to deny it as fake, citizens were divided by uncertainty and fear, and religious groups attempted to explain away the video. The shattering news had spread across the globe. Few believed it, but everyone clamored for answers, which was why Tess and Hawk had come here.
"Evil flourishes in secret," he allowed, and gestured to the building across the street from them. "Which brings us to our current situation. Are you ready?"
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have High Chancellor Gerik accompany you? He is the new head of the mage High Council."
He met her gaze. "As I said before, the world witnessed us fight Alice. He will be more swayed by our presence."
Tess relented and stepped out of the shadows. As they crossed the street Tess stared at their destination, her nervousness mounting. In the last year she'd discovered she was a mage, fought ancient fiends, and even battled the Dark itself—but she had never felt as self-conscious as she did approaching one of the most recognizable buildings in the United States.
The White House.
Gathering her resolve, she straightened her shoulders and came to a halt in front of the gun-toting soldiers.
"This is a restricted area," the tall one said. "You are not allowed to be—"
The balding officer behind him cursed and caught the first man's arm. "It's them! From the video," he hissed. Drawing his weapon, he pointed it at Tess and Hawk.
Hawk gestured to the assault rifles and they melted into puddles of steaming metal. Their expressions frozen in disbelief, the astonished men stared at the liquefied weapons. Before they could recover, Hawk said, "We are here to speak with your president. Please be so kind as to inform him that we have arrived."
Visibly shaken, the taller man grabbed a phone and spoke into it. As he talked a swarm of uniformed officers converged on their location. Tess subtly cast a gravity ring around Hawk and herself, ensuring that any bullets would be yanked to the earth before they could do damage. It was a spell she'd learned early in gravity class, but not one she'd ever thought she would need. Even though she'd never tested the bullet stopping spell, she preferred facing the guns over meeting with the president.
There was a clatter as the gate officer placed the phone back on the wall. "Please step forward and submit to a pat-down."
Tess was impressed that the man kept his voice even, but noticed that sweat was beading on his forehead. She eased a step forward and raised her arms like she was going through an airport checkpoint.
"Feel free," she said, and mentally added, but it won't stop us from being armed.
A female officer stepped forward and gingerly checked her for weapons while the bald officer did the same to Hawk. Once they were done the ring of soldiers followed them as they walked up the grounds toward the White House.
A suited man brought them to a halt in front of the doors. "I'm Special Agent Pierce. Please follow me."
Tess and Hawk followed Agent Pierce as he led them down a long hallway and through a set of scanners. At every step a dozen hard-eyed agents and officers kept their guns trained on them. In spite of her gravity ring, Tess kept her motions slow and deliberate. She was confident in her magic but still found herself checking the strength of her shield several times.
At the end of the hall Agent Pierce turned down a flight of stairs and led them down another corridor. Stopping next to an open steel door, he gestured inside. "Weapons will be trained on you at all times. Any sudden move will be considered an act of aggression, and we will respond with lethal force. The president will be with you shortly."
Hawk inclined his head and walked into the steel-walled chamber. The moment Tess followed him inside the door creaked shut behind them. She blinked into her magesight and examined the room. Like multicolored x-ray vision, her magic revealed every aspect of matter around her. The room was square and devoid of furniture, and the metal walls were gray and dense.
A pair of large caliber guns poked out from the two rear corners. Their intent was obvious, as was the large window that dominated the north wall. Its glass was several inches thick, and provided a view into a second, more comfortable room on the other side.
Less than a minute later the president of the United States walked into the viewing room. Flanked by a handful of Secret Service agents, generals, and other aides, he declined the offered chair and strode to the window. For a long moment he stared at them, his expression inscrutable.
Tall and lean, the president still looked like an officer in the Navy, where he had served for twenty years. His black hair had streaks of silver above the ears. Rather than detract from his looks, it merely served to heighten the intelligence of his features. Eyes of gray regarded Hawk and Tess without fear, but at this late hour they were lined with fatigue.
Tess had been nervo
us walking into the White House, but now that she stood facing the man she felt differently. She'd thought being in the presence of someone with so much power would be intimidating, but oddly it was not. Perhaps it was because she herself carried a great deal, although of a different type.
"I didn't believe them when they said you were here," the president said.
"We felt it best we speak in person," Hawk replied. "There is much that needs to be revealed, and much you need to decide. I assume you have seen the events on Mt. Elbrus?"
"I doubted it, at first," the president said.
"One cannot prepare for a change in reality," Hawk replied.
The president flashed a faint smile. "My analysts did their best to disprove it, but were forced to accept its veracity. They even looked to Hollywood movies for source material."
Hawk issued an annoyed grunt. "Magic is merely energy, Mr. President, and a mage is one who can see and manipulate it. The ability is inherent to all mankind, but only some have enough to wield it."
The president frowned. "Are you saying that magic"—it was clear he struggled speaking the word seriously—"is in all of us?"
"Bland and ungifted doesn't exist in the human race, Mr. President."
Tess stifled a smile at that statement. Hawk's words were true, but she was certain that most of the president's cadre would be unwilling to accept them. While the president digested Hawk's comment another man stepped into view. Dressed in formal military attire, the stars on his shoulders marked his rank.
"General Branson," he said, identifying himself. "How great is the threat from your mother?" His voice was gruff, and carried unabashed suspicion.
"More than you can imagine," Tess responded, her voice even. "Although I should be clear. I did not meet Alice until a few months ago. Prior to that time I was raised by auren parents—and by that I mean non-mage parents. Alice's role in the Harbingers was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you." She grimaced and then added, "I would not describe her as family."