The Jewels of Cyttorak

by Unknown Author

  Robert wasn’t worried. Not in the slightest. It had taken him less than thirty minutes to find the gem in nine hundred square miles of wilderness. It was going to take even less time to secure it from whoever owned it.

  Craig set the chopper down in the clearing with a slight bump, kicking up dust and pine needles with the wind from the blades.

  “Keep it running,” Robert shouted over the noise of the engine to Craig. “This won’t take very long at all.”

  Craig nodded, then shouted, “Duck when you get out.”

  Robert only nodded and stepped out of the helicopter, keeping low until he was well away from the blades.

  Then he stood up straight and at a quick run headed back up a dirt trail along the river toward the cabin. In his left hand, the emerald was grasped tightly. In his right, tucked into his jacket pocket, was his pistol.

  As he went around the slight bend in the valley and started up the trail toward the cabin, he slipped the emerald into his shirt pocket and buttoned it. He’d cut a small hole on the inside of the pocket so the surface of the emerald could be against the skin of his chest. It gave him power, and just in case he needed it, the emerald was there.

  Then he slowed to a fast walk and put both hands open and above his head in the traditional sign of surrender. Ahead of him, he could see the old log cabin tucked against the edge of the steep canyon wall. In front of it was an open meadow leading down to the river.

  Robert had no doubt he was now being watched, most likely through a scope. But he figured this person, whoever he was, would at least want to talk for a moment before he shot. And it was on that piece of human nature that Robert was counting.

  Robert was within thirty steps of the small front porch of the log cabin when the door opened and a man with a long white beard stepped out. He looked to be in his late fifties and had dark, angry eyes. He held a rifle cradled across his arms, and as he stepped to the front of the porch he said, “You can stop right there.”

  Robert took two steps and halted, not more than six paces in front of the man.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ve come to ask for your help,” Robert said, keeping his hands in the air.

  The guy’s eyes looked at Robert. “You’re a big fella. What do you need my help for?’ ’

  “I think you know,” Robert said.

  The old man stared at Robert, then looked away into the open meadow. “Yeah, I know.”

  Robert only nodded. ‘ ‘I could sense that you did. Do you know that something else is coming?”

  The old man nodded. And for an instant there was a look of fear in the mountain man’s eyes.

  “That’s what I need your help with,” Robert said. “If we combine our gems, both touch both stones, then we might be able to stop this red thing that’s coming. At least we’d have a fighting chance.”

  “And you expect me to just drag out my stone and give it to you?”

  “No,” Robert said. “I’ll give you mine, first.” Robert indicated his jacket pocket. “Can I bring it out?”

  The old man nodded. “Real slow like.”

  Robert slowly moved his right hand down into his jacket pocket, then quickly yanked the pistol out.

  The old man didn’t have a chance. He didn’t even get his rifle out of the crook of his arm before Robert caught him with two shots.

  The gunfire echoed down through the valley, swallowed by the faint rumble of the idling helicopter.

  The old man’s rifle went clattering across the porch and down into the dirt as the he spun around and slammed into the logs of his home. Then slowly, a look of surprise on his face, he slouched to the wood of the porch.

  “Sorry,” Robert said, tucking the pistol back into his pocket. “Just didn’t have any more time to talk.”

  With a slow turn he located the direction the stone was in, then started off toward the side of the mountain behind the cabin. Within a few seconds, he had narrowed the location down to an old stump.

  Two seconds later, he pulled the second part of the emerald out of the small knot in the bark and into the air. It was a third of the size of the one in his pocket, but still beautiful in the morning sun.

  He held it up with his bare hands as its energy flowed over and through him, making him feel stronger, bigger than before.

  Suddenly his clothes felt tight as his strength grew.

  And inside his head he could feel two presences. One weak and very far away, in the southern part of the country. The other huge and red and very close.

  And the red one was very angry.

  Robert slipped the second emerald into his shirt pocket and at a full run headed back down the trail toward the waiting helicopter.

  As he climbed in Craig looked startled. ‘‘What happened to your clothes?” he shouted over the roar of the engine.

  “I’m still a growing boy,” Robert shouted back, then laughed.

  Craig laughed with him as Robert pointed to the north down the valley away from the approaching red thing from the south.

  ‘ ‘Keep it low to the river for a ways,” Robert shouted to Craig, “then head straight for the McCall airport as fast as this bird will fly.”

  “Ain’t got much choice,” Craig said. “Dunno what you just did friend, but you weigh a helluva lot more. ’Copter can barely make it.”

  Robert just smiled.

  Trying to track someone over the Idaho mountains with a small jet while being directed by the Juggernaut was not easy. And it was not something Scott had ever imagined he would ever be attempting.

  From the moment they had crossed over the first range of mountains, Cain hadn’t said a word. He’d simply sat hunched over in the back of the Blackbird, pointing.

  First right.

  Then left.

  Then back right.

  Scott had brought the jet right down as close as he could to the tops of the mountains, but even at that he had to keep them a good thousand feet up, which meant they were three or four thousand feet above some of the valley floors. Even another plane down there would be nothing more than a speck against the rocks and trees, impossible to see.

  Twice the banking turns of the jet had overshot where Cain wanted them to go. The entire process was frustrating beyond belief. But Scott had no better idea on how to track Service, especially now that it seemed he had left his own jet.

  He decided that they needed to take a more active

  role.

  Activating the radio link, he said, ‘ ‘Storm, I want you and Rogue to start a more detailed search from the air. Take Wolverine with you, see if his enhanced senses can pick anything up.”

  “Suits me, boss-man,” Logan said before Storm could answer. “Beats sittin’ in this tin can.”

  “We shall do so immediately,” Storm said.

  A moment later, Scott saw the hatch on the side of the Raven open up. Storm flew out, gripping Wolverine by his wrists, borne on the winds she controlled. The hatch shut quickly. No doubt Ororo used her weather-working abilities to minimize the decompression in the Raven.

  “They’re away,” came Hank’s voice from over the radio.

  “So I see,” Scott said.

  Suddenly Cain let out a loud grunt, then clinched his teeth and grabbed his chest as if having a heart attack. He growled like a caged animal ready to spring, so loud and so mean that Scott didn’t know what to do. Being trapped inside the Blackbird with an angry' Juggernaut was not something he ever hoped to experience. In fact, he’d been half worried about it all night.

  Then Jean’s thoughts came clearly into his mind. Don’t worry. I’ve got a telekinetic bubble around us just in case.

  Scott glanced back at where Cain still held his chest. For the first time Scott actually thought Cain was in pain. But how was that possible? The ruby didn’t allow Cain to feel pain.

  Unless the emerald was causing it.

  “What happened?” Jean asked Cain. “Are you all right?”

  “He got stronger,” Ca
in said through clutched teeth. “Down there.”

  Cain pointed to a steep-walled valley with a river winding down the center like a small snake.

  Storm. Rogue. Jean’s thoughts were clear in Scott’s head as well. Check out the valley below.

  Jean nodded to their answers that Scott couldn’t hear, then she turned to Cain. “Rogue, Storm, and Wolverine are checking out the valley. It will only take a minute.” Cain said nothing as Scott slowed the jet and put it into a tight banking circle pattern. Off to his right Hank did the same with the Raven.

  “He’s moving again,” Cain said. “That direction.” Cain pointed north down the river.

  Scott swung the Blackbird out of the pattern and headed north.

  Jean nodded to herself, then glanced at Scott. “We’ve got an old man shot down there,” she said. “Storm says he’s still alive, but aging before their eyes.”

  ‘ ‘Aging?’ ’ Scott asked and Jean only nodded. “Beast,” Scott said. “Got a medical emergency on the valley floor below. See what you can do to help.” “Understood,” Hank’s voice came back strong as the Raven turned and almost dove into the valley.

  Scott glanced at Jean. “Have Rogue guide the Raven in. We’ll continue after Service.”

  Jean nodded.

  Cain simply pointed north.

  On the ground below, Storm knelt beside the old man, then sat down on the porch and put his head in her lap.

  He had been shot twice and they had found him on his back, on the wooden porch of his log cabin. He was alive, but from what Storm could tell, wouldn’t be for long.

  What was even stranger was that he seemed to be aging. When they’d first reached him, he had appeared to be a man in his fifties, but now he looked almost eighty and lines formed on his face as they watched.

  Wolverine had let them take care of the man while he tracked Service’s trail down the valley. Rogue had disappeared to guide Hank in for a landing.

  Now the peaceful valley around the log cabin was shaking with the sounds of jet engines as Hank brought the small jet in for a perfect vertical landing on a flat area near the river. When he shut down the engines the sounds of the river slowly returned and the valley again seemed to be at peace.

  Only a moment later Hank and Rogue were beside Storm and the old man.

  Hank did a quick medical check, then shook his head at the same time as he dug in a small bag with one foot. “He’s not going to make it,” he said to Storm. “But I can give him something to ease his pain.”

  “Do it,” Storm said.

  Hank quickly injected the pain medication and after a moment the old man seemed to relax a little in her lap. Then his eyes fluttered and he opened them, staring up at her.

  “I’m in heaven,” he said hoarsely.

  “Not yet,” Storm said, slowly stroking the man’s arm. “Rest easy.”

  He smiled at her. “So beautiful.” Then he frowned slightly. “Thought I could defend my stone.” He laughed, then coughed, and a small trace of blood dripped from his mouth.

  “Go easy,” Storm said. She used her power to warm the area around him slightly as he shivered.

  “Stone?” Hank said to the man. “Is that what Service wanted? Another emerald?”

  The old nodded, never taking his gaze off of Storm’s face above him. “Mine, his, and another. All part of one big stone.”

  Storm glanced up at Hank who had a worried look in his eyes.

  Suddenly the old man started coughing. He now looked at least ninety, and his hair was falling out in Storm’s lap.

  He grabbed Storm’s arm. “Don’t take me off my land. Please? Promise?”

  Storm nodded. “I promise.”

  A moment later, Storm could feel him relax.

  And then he was dead.

  Beside him Rogue stood and sighed.

  Storm held the man’s head for a moment, then eased it off her lap and laid it gently on the wood floor. Then she too stood, taking a deep breath.

  “Didn’t make it, huh?” Wolverine asked from the front steps.

  “Did you find anything?” Storm said, turning to face her team.

  ‘ ’Copter landed down the valley,” Logan said, “an’ Service hot-footed it up here. Then he went to a stump near the edge of the slope back there. Somethin’ was hidden in there, somethin’ that had a nasty scent, but it’s gone now.”

  “Another emerald,” Hank said.

  “Great.”

  “Hank,” Storm said, “go back to the plane and inform Cyclops what has happened here. Then bring back two shovels. We need to bury this poor man.”

  “I’m not sure that’s going to be necessary,” Hank said, indicating the body of the old man. “My guess is the emerald gave him a very long life.”

  Storm was stunned. The old man’s skin had already collapsed and dried in on the bones. And as she watched flakes of skin and hair blew away in the slight wind.

  “Lordy,” Rogue whispered.

  “Inform Cyclops,” Storm repeated.

  Hank nodded and headed for the jet.

  By the time he returned, the old man’s bones were turning to dust and being scattered by the wind down his beloved mountain valley.

  Storm’s promise to him had been kept. He had stayed on his land and become part of it.

  And five X-Men swore to themselves to get the man responsible for this and make sure he paid.

  In the beautiful resort community of McCall, Idaho, Service barely squeezed aboard his private plane, smashing part of the galley as he did. After he got settled on the even-smaller couch, he punched the intercom button. “Get this plane in the air. And file a flight plan for Miami, Florida.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Two minutes later, the private jet cleared the tops of the pine trees near the end of the runway and turned east, climbing into the clear blue summer sky.

  Service wasn’t paying any attention to the beautiful lakes and mountains below him. He simple sat on the couch and held up the two emeralds, turning them, studying them. After a moment he figured out how they fit together.

  “One piece missing,” he said to himself as he stared at the emeralds. “Just one. And that soon will be mine.”

  Then he laughed again.

  The attic area above Toole’s office had become like an oven as the day went on. Remy was dripping sweat into the insulation above the ceiling tiles and the dust was sticking to him like gray paste. His hair was matted down over his headband and even the playing cards in the pocket of his duster felt damp and limp.

  But like any good thief, he was a master at waiting. Didn’t matter the conditions, he hated it. His normal inclination was to barge in fighting.

  Fighting was easier. And quicker.

  The outcome was determined almost at once.

  Waiting was hard. But sometimes a good thief had to wait. And Remy was a good thief, maybe even the best there ever had been. And in this instance, waiting for Bella to return was the correct thing to do.

  Above, he could hear the pacing of Toole’s guards on the roof. Below, Toole and his thin assistant had come and gone from the office a number of times, but nothing Toole said indicated a change in the situation. Something was coming after Toole. Something he feared so much that he was willing to make a deal with the devil herself.

  So Remy had waited. At times he could barely contain his desire to just drop into the room below and kick a few doors down.

  But then the need for more information about Toole kept him in his spot.

  And the need to wait for the return of Bella.

  He waited and sweated and watched and listened.

  Then around dinner time, things changed.

  The door below slammed open and Toole stormed around behind his desk, sitting down hard in his big leather chair.

  “Where is she?” Toole asked his assistant. “Whoever is coming after me is getting closer. And he’s stronger. I can feel it. He’s much stronger.”

  “She’s left her people,” his
assistant said, obviously trying to calm his boss. “And more of them have arrived and taken up positions. They’re guarding the building beside our men. No one can get in.”

  Remy didn’t like the sound of that. Bella was up to something and chances were it wasn’t a partnership with Toole.

  “She had better not leave me out to dry,” Toole said, sneering at his assistant.

  “She won’t,” the assistant said.

  “And you are correct,” Bella said, her voice coming clearly to Remy’s ears, even though she hadn’t stepped in front of the desk to face Toole.

  “Thank God,” Toole said, standing to face Bella, who moved to face him. “I’m in great danger. Just since we last talked the force is close.”

  Remy’s breath caught again in his chest. Here, right below him, was his wife, the woman he had loved more than any other. Yet she didn’t remember her love for him. And now she had sworn to kill him if he ever returned to New Orleans. How surprised she would be to know her husband was above her at that very moment.

  “I’ve thought about your offer,” she said to Toole, coming right to the point.

  “Yes?” Toole asked, the eagerness in his voice far too obvious.

  “But first,” Bella said, “I need to have three questions answered to iny satisfaction.”

  Toole shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”

  “First,” Bella said. “The ghost sentries you employ around the Quarter. How is that done?”

  Toole laughed and moved over to a picture on the wall. With a flick, he tapped a hidden switch and the wall slid back revealing a bank of screens and a half-dozen keyboards.

  “Holographic projections,” he said. “Hidden projectors in thirty places around the Quarter. We can project sound like voices and record at the same time.”

  Remy nodded. As he had figured. Nothing more than a security trick. A good one, for sure. It had kept Bella and her people as confused as it had Remy.

  Toole tapped at a keyboard and then indicated a monitor. “For example, this person was asking questions about me the other night outside of the Bijou and we tracked him until he caught us.”