Chronomancer

by Mackenzie Morris

  The very thought of ever whipping Niki like that was appalling. "I appreciate what you're saying and I respect the traditions of the Iskaydrian and Avelayan peoples, but Niki is my friend. He's not my slave. I'm not going to control him."

  "That in itself is admirable. Foolish on your part, but admirable, anyway. If you go down the road of friendship only between you and your Time Knight, then I will warn you of something. Don't let Niki take full control. You are the Chronomancer. You are the one who has been marked. You are the one with the magic. If he tries to force you to use your tattoo before you are recovered or he pushes you too hard, you have to tell him to wait. I've known of too many good Chronomancers who were killed because of exhaustion from not resting long enough between warps. Niki can be impatient. Don't let his urgency cost you your life. Promise me that."

  He bowed his head, feeling his friend's piercing glare eating into him. "It won't come to that, I promise."

  Niki hissed at both of them from his brooding corner. He snarled, having heard everything they had said, but he did not dare to protest. In wordless retribution, he hopped off of the counter, went to the living room, then gathered up the remaining bites of Jack's tacos and ate them noisily.

  Mr. Allen changed the subject. "Have you seen the news? Are they covering all this?"

  "Every day." Jack picked at the cracked white paint on the leg of the table. "Every news broadcast, both local and national, are filled with our pictures and news conferences about how evil we are."

  "Stop right there. I don't want either of you to watch any more of that. You are not bad boys. You are just victims in this. I don't want you to start believing all the negative things they say about you. You're not criminals. You're not murderers. We will find a way to stop this and clear your names, I promise."

  Niki snapped at him. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Allen."

  A quiet chiming came from the kitchen. It was a sound Jack knew, but had not anticipated hearing there. His cell phone? He stood and made his way across the brown tiles, following the tone to his bag that had been shoved under the kitchen cart holding the stand mixer. He dug through it until he found his phone and tapped the screen that was dim from a low battery.

  "I brought your bag here and charged your phone before I was arrested. I put it into low power mode. That thing has some serious battery life."

  "It's one made for camping. I hated having a dead phone, so my grandmother bought me one that would live for weeks if not used." A chill prickled on his skin. "Uh, guys?"

  "What's up?" Niki asked.

  "It's a text."

  "What does it say?"

  Jack opened it and read over the words in the blue bubble. Venice, Italy. Piazzetta di San Marcos. February 24, 1502. Dress for the occasion and meet me near the columns.

  "Give me that." Niki snatched the phone out of Jack's hand and scanned over the message. "Who is this from?"

  "It has no number listed."

  "That's weird. Who would know what you are, aside from the Syndicate? This is obviously a trap."

  Maybe it was more than that, though. "But it's so obvious it's a trap. They either think we're really dumb or it's from someone else."

  "But who?" Niki asked.

  "You should go." Mr. Allen took another swig of vodka. "Go to Venice. See who it is. If it's the Syndicate, go ahead and take them out, Niki."

  "Without causing a scene during Carnival?" Niki scoffed, handing the phone back to Jack. "Are you serious? No. It will be too crowded. Innocents will get in the way. I have ancestors who lived in Venice during that time. It's too risky."

  Mr. Allen held up his bottle of vodka in the light. "I didn't know that."

  "Yep. I'm Italian, Iranian, and Avelayan and proud of it. That's how I get my handsomeness."

  Jack barely heard them. He was too busy tracing the lines of his tattoo while mulling over the information Mr. Allen had told him. Everything was happening incredibly quickly. In what felt like less than a week to Jack, he had gone from a high school junior with a normal life to a time-traveling, magic-wielding freak with a tattoo, his face on every news network, and his lifelong friend missing. Deep down, he knew he was not a freak, but when all he ever wanted was to be a normal teenager and go to an arts college and study to be a stage actor, gaining strange powers and being on the FBI's most wanted list made him a freak by his terms.

  He tapped the hourglass with his fingers. "What if we had put a different date to return to the present?"

  Mr. Allen looked up from his vodka. "What do you mean?"

  "What if we hadn't written a week after the murders? What if we had gone back to that night and done something different?"

  He shrugged. "It would have been a possibility, but it's more likely that the Syndicate has blocked off that date and location. They're called base marks. Base marks are certain coordinates and dates that basically override anywhere and any time else a Chronomancer tries to warp to. They are usually centered around major events in human history. For example, if a Chronomancer tried to warp to England anytime around the year 1066, they would warp to the middle of a battlefield during the Battle of Hastings."

  "That explains why we found one of Ellie's charms in the same place with the Mongols."

  "Because anyone who warps to that location near that time period will appear in the same general area. Most of time hasn't been explored because the Syndicate likes to control things so they can do whatever they want with major events."

  "How do they do that, though?" Jack asked.

  "I'm honestly not sure. If I had to guess, I would say it had to do with controlling a large number of Chronomancers and altering their abilities in some way. The date and time you received in that text message might be a set base mark. Or it could be a random destination. There's really no telling what combinations of locations and dates have been blocked off other than by testing it. That in itself is a dangerous task because the Syndicate likes to establish headquarters or checkpoints at certain base marks to make it easier for their Chronomancer agents in the field to come back for training or debriefings."

  Why had he not thought of it before? "So, I couldn't go back to a time when Ellie was here and I didn't know anything about time travel?"

  "Even if the Syndicate didn't have any of it blocked off, you can't exist as a time traveler and in the past at the same time. If you go back to a time and place you were, you will simply be the current you, but without your mark. It's a dangerous game to try to go back and change things directly in times that would put you in contact with your past self. If that happens, only one version of you can exist at a single time. It happened to your father and me one time. We went back to get his journal that had been burned in a fire. We arrived in his house when the past him would have been writing in it before bed. The moment we warped in, he knew something was wrong. He was there, but the past him was gone. He had taken his place and lost his Chronomancer mark. We were trapped in the past. Without any power, we had to hunt down an agent of the Syndicate, who we were still working with at the time, and get them to apply a new tattoo so we could get back to our rightful time."

  And with that, Jack's heart broke even more. "Sounds awful."

  "It was. We were almost arrested because we were ten years older than we would have been at that time in the past, so people didn't recognize us. They thought Samuel was a burglar in his own home. Trust me, it's best to not go anywhere near yourself. However, it is safe to go back to a time in the far past that you've visited before, especially if it's a base mark. Those are generally stable. As a Chronomancer, you are essentially removed from current timeline, so no one can go back and make sure you don't exist by killing an ancestor. We Time Knights aren't so lucky."

  "I see." He rubbed the back of his neck. "This is so complicated."

  Mr. Allen slid his bottle of vodka across the table, the bottom barely staying on the surface. "Time always is, Jack. There are a lot of rules when it comes to time travel, so I'll be sure to wri
te them all down in a journal for you like I did for Samuel."

  "Thanks. I'm so scared."

  "It's okay to be scared. I can tell you what I know, but the best way for you to figure it out is to experience it for yourself. Do you have any more questions that I might be able to answer?"

  "What about the Zurvan Syndicate?" Niki asked. "Where did they get their name?"

  "There used to be an off branch of Zoroastrianism that some called a cult. That group worshiped a divinity by the name of Zurvan. Zurvan was the god of time and space. He is said to be neutral and the father of both good and evil. The syndicate views themselves as being the regulators of time. They like to pretend that they are the embodiment of Zurvan."

  Jack whispered, his voice giving out on him. "And my father was one of them. You were one of them."

  "We believed in their cause. Samuel joined them willingly when we were teenagers, around your age, actually. They promised us that Samuel would help to make the world a better place by going back in time and saving people. But we eventually realized that saving people led to more people dying, innocent families being destroyed. He thought of your mother and about the family that he was trying to start. He couldn't keep hurting people with his powers. He had enough when he realized the Zurvan Syndicate was only out for their own benefit, playing as gods, deciding who lived and who died, weighing people's souls as if they could judge them. Your father grew to despise them."

  "And they killed him. Now they want to kill me, too."

  "If they wanted to kill you, they would have shot you out on the steppe. While they can't kill you by eliminating an ancestor, they can kill you with a bullet, a knife, fire, drowning. You're not immortal. They want you to join them."

  He stood up straight with his hand over his heart in determination. "Never. I won't do it."

  "You say that now, but you're here, in a cozy home with a full belly and you're not strapped down being tortured somewhere. These people are not above using brutality to get what they want. If they get their hands on you, they will break you."

  "I won't let them break me. I'll fight it. Niki will keep me safe."

  "No one can keep you safe from the Syndicate once they sink their claws into you. At the end of the time we were a part of the Syndicate, there were rumors going around that Chronomancers were going missing. They blamed the Inquisition, but Samuel thought the Syndicate might have been behind the disappearances."

  Niki rejoined them in the kitchen from cleaning up the mess on the coffee table. He washed the taco juice from his hands at the sink. "The more we talk about this, the more Venice seems like a trap. We're not going. This is ridiculous. Why the hell would we warp across the world to a time far in the past, all because some mysterious person sent you a creepy message? They blocked their number for a reason. They obviously want to be untraceable. This screams of a trap, but you're ignoring it. If you go to Venice, you'll be going alone."

  "How dare you speak to him like that?" Mr. Allen noisily slid his chair away from the table and jumped up. "I trained you better than this, Niki."

  "I'm not a show dog, Allen. And I'm not going to take my shirt off and let you or anyone beat me because I speak my mind. I don't care what Avelayans were in the past. I'm not a slave."

  "If Jack won't do it, I'll teach you a lesson myself."

  Niki dried his hands on his black skinny jeans. "I dare you to try, old man."

  Jack had to play mediator. "Please, both of you. No one is hurting anyone. Mr. Allen, stop. Violence is not the way to handle this. Niki, I want to go to Italy. I have a feeling about this message. What if it's from Ellie? If I have to go alone, then I will, but I need you. I don't speak Italian. I don't speak anything other than English. I'll be lost without you. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do, though. I already told you that you're my friend. You're like a brother to me."

  Niki rolled his eyes. "If you put it that way, what kind of brother would I be if I let you warp away and be all alone and defenseless? Maybe you should beat the caring out of me too!"

  Mr. Allen bowed his head. "I'm sorry, son."

  The rebel stormed up and got in his stepfather's face. "I'm not your son."

  Jack chewed on his bottom lip in the heavy silence that fell across the house. He once again felt powerless with Niki and Mr. Allen standing inches away from each other with fists clenched at their sides, prepared to strike each other. Hatred flashed through both of their eyes and each looked to be on the verge of shouting, yet neither uttered a word.

  Mr. Allen was the first to back down. His shoulders relaxed in his tweed jacket. "I can't hurt you, Niki. You know that. I'm not a violent man. It's no excuse, but I have been absolutely stressed these past few days. I need sleep and probably no more alcohol. I taught you without laying a finger on you all your life. I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm so sorry."

  "Never talk to me again. Now I get why Mom ran off that night and never came back!"

  Obviously deeply hurt, Mr. Allen rubbed his cheeks and turned to Jack. "I moved most of the costumes from the auditorium to the attic here before I was arrested the day after everything happened. You are free to use any you need for your travels. I try my hardest to make them as authentic and historically accurate as they can be. I have them labeled by location, then by date. If you want to go pick one out, I will make the necessary alterations before you leave."

  "Thank you, Mr. Allen."

  The jingle of keys was followed by the slam of the front door when Niki stormed out of the house and left without another word. What little progress had been made with Jack's mood came crashing down with the car engine starting up in the garage. A moment later, he heard his best friend speed away.

  "He'll be back, Jack."

  "Yeah. Let's go find an outfit for me to wear to Venice. I . . ." Jack reached out to steady himself against the wall when a dizzy spell swept over him. "Oh."

  "That can wait. You don't look very good. Calm down and I'll draw you a bath. Then, you're getting into bed and I'm making you a hot meal. You can't go to Venice or find Ellie if you die from not taking care of yourself."

  With one last glance out the widow at the pouring rain in the early evening darkness, Jack held Ellie's silver charm tightly in his hand and followed his teacher towards the bathroom. His life was falling apart, but he turned his focus to making it better, one bath, one meal, one full night's rest at a time. He held the charm to his lips, feeling the metal warming with his breath, as he silently vowed to Ellie that he would find her and fix the mess that was destroying everything they once had . . . all because the Zurvan Syndicate wanted him. That guilt became overwhelming, surprising Jack when the wetness trailed down his face from the corners of his stinging eyes to soak into the front of his wrinkled shirt.

  Chapter 4

  After a long night trying on costumes and massaging Niki's damaged ego with violent video games, heavy metal music blaring at full volume, and gorging themselves on fudge brownies that Jack made from his mother's recipe book, the duo warped into Venice, in the heart of the Italian Renaissance. Dressed in the fine silks and heavy wool costumes, the two of them stepped out from behind the white columns of the Gothic arcade of the first floor of the Doge's Palace and into the vibrant celebration filling the Piazzetta.

  Jack's grey wool cape adorned with a brocade of green and gold roses flowed behind him when he twirled around, taking in the sights. His costume of a baggy black shirt over the dark green tights with velvet roses, a black tricorn hat, and a full white mask with golden lips and painted roses on the cheeks was complete in every detail. Golden buttons, knee-high white stockings, and a fluffy green feather in his hat. It was, by far, the most expensive and intricate outfit he had ever worn. While fancy and elaborate for Carnival, Jack's appearance was nothing compared to the flashiness of the man strutting around like a peacock at his side.

  Over-the-top in red and white striped pants, white stockings, a long red tunic with slits up the sides, a white scarf trailing
down his back that matched the half mask painted with a red checkered pattern and silver filigrees, Niki was not dressed shyly. Heavy crystal earrings dangled from his lobes and he twirled an ivory-handled cane as if he was some sort of wealthy aristocrat. At least Niki had slicked his hair back and appeared almost presentable aside from the constant posing, winking at women, and flexing his slender muscles.

  Jack had initially been worried their appearance would be too much, but seeing the array of jewels, gold leaf, and piles of colored silk on the revelers around them put him at ease. Shouting and boisterous singing came from the canals at the end of the piazzetta, party-goers danced to the lute music between the two granite columns overlooking the area, topped with symbols of the patron saints of Venice, and confetti drifted through the evening air as the sun finished setting. The light-colored stones laid in a herringbone pattern glistened under the lanterns that glowed on iron street lamps.

  Men gambled outside the walls of the brick library on the other side of piazzetta, tossing bone dice and showering the floor with coins. The chiming of the clock tower, the Torre dell'Orologio, echoed above the cream and red brick buildings lining the canals. Women in giant gowns exited wooden gondolas along the water's edge at the end of the piazzetta where they immediately joined in the lively dancing. Merchants carried baskets of bread loaves, salted fish, wooden children's toys, oval-shaped cookies, and pistachios. Without their parents watching them, the masked children darted through the partying, squealing and giggling as they played hide and seek around the two pillars, the statues of the Lion of Venice and St. Theodore looming over them.

  A few kids ventured into the second floor of the Doge's Palace where they tossed almond shells down onto the unsuspecting people below.

  Niki chuckled and placed his arm around Jack's shoulders. "This is awesome! I have always wanted to attend Carnival. To be here during the Renaissance is . . . ah, it's so fulfilling. Look at it all, Jack. These are my people, well, on my father's side, anyway."