“I am here,” the historian said.
We turned at the sound of her voice. She had followed our path up the stairs. In her arms was armor. Behind her were two others. They held armor as well. They looked intimidated to be so close to her. They looked even more afraid that she would kill them for doing something wrong.
“I made this armor for you,” the historian told us. “I just finished putting the last touches on it.”
“You made this armor last night?” River asked with a small disbelieving laugh.
The historian nodded. “Yes.”
The historian gestured the Watchers carrying the armor forward. They set the armor on the ground and then stepped away. They looked to the historian for what to do next. She ushered them away with a gesture. They hurried down the steps, their whispers of excitement trailing after them. The armor they had set down was beautiful; they were modern with classy, beautiful touches of antique. The armor would protect against gunshots as well as swords and would look good while doing it. The historian pointed out who got what armor. She was very specific.
“The armor will only fit the person I intended it for,” she explained.
I saw lots of color and bold designs – designs that fit the personalities of the person the armor was designed for. Jackson’s armor was bold and bulky. Margaret’s was light and elegant, with a design like storm clouds on the front. River’s was dark, with designs that hinted at water. Serenity’s armor was curvy and, somehow, seductive. Reaper’s armor was bright and utilitarian. The silver of it highlighted the silver of his eyes. Daniel’s was graceful and bold – just like him.
The historian gave the last set of armor to Moira – it was somehow…romantic in design. I remained armor-less. I looked at the historian curiously. Was she suddenly second-guessing my ability to kill Marcus? The answer was not what I was expecting. The historian stepped closer to me. Her lips lifted up in a strange smile.
“You will face Marcus. For such a task, you need an armor that will move as you move and will remind you of why you fight and what brought you to his door.”
The historian held out the armor she was carrying in her arms. I looked at it closely. I instantly felt a connection to the design. It was as if I had designed it and built, instead of her. There was a design of a silver vine on the front. Spaced at artistic intervals around the vines were red gems. Not just gems…diamonds. I recognized the diamonds. They were the ones I had cried for Daniel. The historian had put them in to the design of my armor. I took the armor from her and noticed that the diamonds were not the only thing she had included. On the interior of the armor were white rose petals. Farrah’s rose.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“That’s not all,” the historian said.
She had been wearing the sword at her side. She took it off and handed it to me. I actually took a step back from what she was offering me.
“I can’t,” I refused the sword.
“You will,” the historian commanded.
She put the sword in my hand, not taking ‘no’ for an answer. The lettering on the sword lit up with my touch, as it had the first time I had touched it. It was bright red for a moment, before dying down again. The warm feeling of it in my hand was reassuring.
“I…” I started to say.
I realized I didn’t have a reply. The sword and the armor felt right. The only thing left was to get on with the fighting.
“Well, we should get this on, then get moving,” Reaper said, when it was obvious I couldn’t find the words. “We have a lot of people we need to move to Israel and less time to do it in.”
The others nodded in agreement. I was still focused on the historian. She had given me the tools to fight Marcus – in more ways than just armor and a sword. I could never repay her. She nodded as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. Her nod was comforting and reassuring.
The others were focused on putting on their new armor. They helped each other fasten the straps and settle the armor in place. The historian helped me put mine on. With her help, I was armored in no time. The feeling of the armor was not foreign. The weight was nothing on my body. I could move normally; I knew I would be able to fight Marcus. The historian moved to the others to help them. Soon, we were all outfitted in our new armor. As I looked at my friends, it was easy to feel the full weight of what we were about to do. It was also easy to feel out of place. I felt as if we had stepped in to another time where princes and lords fought epic battles. It was too much; I started laughing.
“What?” Daniel asked.
“Our lives are so weird,” I said.
“Yep,” Daniel agreed.
“Well, I think that’s about it,” Reaper said. “Everybody know what they are doing?”
Everyone nodded. It was time. We all knew it. We were all ready.
“Then there is nothing left but for us to get on with it,” Reaper said. “River, stay here and make sure everything is organized on this end.”
River nodded in agreement.
Reaper held out his hand to Sara. The others moved to her as well. I hesitated. There was still someone I had to say ‘goodbye’ to.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I told them.
They looked at me with a question in their eyes, but they didn’t argue. Daniel’s expression told me he thought he might know the reason for my hesitation. It also asked if I wanted him to stay. I shook my head in a ‘no.’ He had things to do in Israel – he needed to be there for Reaper. My task was less immediate to the big picture. Daniel nodded, getting the message, and took hold of Sara’s hand. They disappeared. River and Shawn stayed, to begin preparing the others for the move to Israel. River was thinking two steps ahead, her mind flying over details. She had a whole army to prepare to send to Israel. It was no small task.
I realized all at once that the platform was surrounded. The Saints knew we were starting to move. They were prepared. They were all wearing their armor and had their weapons ready. They were just waiting for a sign that it was time. They were waiting for River. I looked at them. They were all eager; they were all ready. They knew what we were about to face. They were willing to face it as honestly and as bravely as they could. I felt moved by their actions. I knew it came at a price. I knew that we were about to face would be the scariest thing any of us would ever encounter. The words came to my lips without effort.
“I can tell you’re nervous,” I said to the watching crowd. “We’re about to do something no one has dared do before. We’re going to bring war to Marcus. His violence has been felt in all of your lives, directly or indirectly. He has hunted us all. His violence keeps us afraid. You all know the cost of letting him live. So, today, we will let him know that we are not okay with him ruining our lives. We’re going to show him that we do not appreciate his attempt at subduing us. Today, we will go stir up some epic-style trouble. Our way. He will regret the day he decided to mess with the Saints!”
I held up my sword as emphasis for the coming violence. The sound of their cheers startled the bugs and animals in to silence. They were riled up by my words. They were more than willing to stir up trouble – they were also more than capable. Their whole lives had been spent making mischief. They finally had a focus for the gifts of trouble making they had spent so long perfecting.
River and Shawn were staring at me. When I met River’s eyes, she smiled at me.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” River teased.
I smiled back and went in search of the reason I had stayed behind. As I did, I heard River start directing the others up to the platform to be taken to Israel by Shawn. The people clapped for me as I maneuvered my way around them. I smiled and accepted their cheers with a purposeful nod. Ellen and the others were on their platform. They knew something was going on, but they hadn’t heard my speech. They just knew that the others were worked up. Spider, Sprint and Ethan were missing from the group, but Han and Beatrice were sitting with Sam, Ellen and Naomi.
Ellen s
tood up the second she saw me. She didn’t need words to know I was leaving. My armor, my sword and certainly my face gave me away.
“Now?” Ellen asked.
I nodded.
“Be careful?” Ellen asked.
“More than careful…” I promised.
Ellen kissed me on the cheek. Then, she put her hand on my face.
“Get him,” Ellen said in a fierce voice.
“I will,” I promised.
I said goodbye to the others then let the pull of the coming fight direct me to the battle ahead of us.
Chapter 21
Grunting, sniffling, snarling and shifting filled the air as I landed. I had landed in the middle of the Nightstalker part of the camp. The Nightstalkers were moving in restless anticipation. When I landed, the Nightstalkers started shifting more eagerly. They could feel the coming storm. My appearance was proof that things were picking up speed.
I inhaled deeply and listened carefully for sounds of my friends over the more animal sounds surrounding me. Daniel’s voice was any easy draw. I headed in his direction. The Nightstalkers melted out of my way as I walked. Their low growls of greeting filled the air.
Finally, Daniel and the others came in to view. Daniel and Reaper were directing the Watchers who were landing at a steady rate via Shawn and Sara. The other ‘generals’ were around the camp, doing their best to prepare the Saints. I passed Alex, who was still in Nightstalker form. She was keeping the Nightstalkers in line as they waited for the word to move. Anna was next to her. I knew that the two of them together would be a force to be reckoned with. Alex gave a low roar of greeting as I passed. I put a hand on her side in greeting and moved to Daniel.
Daniel greeted me with a smile. He took my hand.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Not the sort of girl to make speeches and hold your sword in the air?” Daniel asked with a mocking grin.
“Heard about that?”
“Heard about it?” Daniel asked. “People can’t stop talking about it.”
“Well, they were all staring me. I had to say something,” I said.
“I know a part of you liked it,” Daniel replied. “But okay…”
Daniel took in the bustling activity. His eyes searched the crowd. The people around us were growing at a fast rate. Sara and Shawn were each bringing thirty people at a time. Despite the movement, Daniel was preoccupied with another truth.
“Just promise me no dangerous stunts,” Daniel said. “Promise me that.”
“I will try my very hardest,” I said. “Promise me you won’t leave me again.”
“I promise,” Daniel said.
“Good. Where’s my group?” I asked.
“They are at the other end of the camp. Farthest away from us,” Daniel said.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be there…good luck.”
Daniel smiled his boyish smile at me.
“Good hunting,” he replied.
He kissed me fiercely, a reminder to come back to him. Then he let me go. He moved back to Reaper, who was still focused on the others. Reaper nodded at me as I caught his eyes. His nod was full of determination. He would win the fight, no matter the cost. I smiled back and went in search of the Watchers I would be going in to battle with.
As I walked, my brain went through a slow process of letting the world I had known transform in to a world that included epic battles in distant places. It was changing gears to allow for the coming moments, hours, days…The old me moved over for the new me in a combination that was fierce and capable.
I passed many people I knew on my way to the farthest part of the camp – people I had laughed with and people I had only seen at a distance. They all stood respectfully as I passed.
Finally, I saw Serenity and Eli, as well as Fiona, the girl who could control plants, and Ileana and Mick. At the outskirts of the group of fifteen sat the historian. She was indifferent to the dirt on her clothes; she sat as if she were a tourist taking in the mountains. She looked unperturbed by the swirling sense of adventure surrounding the camp. There were others; people I recognized as some of Reaper’s best fighters and people we had rescued from the castle in Romania. They were casual as they waited for me. Their faces showed no fear – they were used to fights were the odds were weighted heavily against them. Many of them had spent decades running around the world for the nine, usually against larger enemies with even less odds of survival than the ones we were currently facing. I stopped in front of the group and eyed them. They were calm, certainly but that did not mean they did not hold a deeper fear. That did not mean they were not searching for a leader. I knew we were about to walk hip-deep in to danger together. I was not sure if I was the sort of the leader they needed, but I would do my best to pretend. Their courage might depend on how well I convinced them I was able to face down one of the scariest, most ruthless Watchers in the world. They had to trust in my ability if they were to fight beside me.
“I want to say ‘thanks’ for joining me in this,” I said. “Our task is probably the hardest, and I know you are well aware of the danger. Know that I will do my best to keep you from harm, and have no intention of risking your necks for something stupid…We will get Marcus. I promise.”
There were no cheers this time, just a cold fire that lit up their eyes. They were willing to fight to the death if it meant getting me to Marcus. It was something I was afraid of. It was something I would not be able to change.
I turned away from their hopeful, determined faces and looked out over the sea of humanity in front of me. The camp had grown a lot during the time it had taken me to walk to my group. There were more Saints than I had thought – the jungle had concealed our numbers. Reaper and River had saved many – had protected lives, despite the odds. How many would die? How many would live to see freedom found? How many would die never knowing that Marcus had won?
It was the first time I had ever considered the weight of so many lives on my shoulders and had felt the weight so severely. It was awareness that even the logical part of my brain could not shut down. I could not logic away the fear and the doubt.
As I tried to come to grips with that knowledge, the feeling of the people and Nightstalkers surrounding us shifted. I did not have to question ‘why’ for long. The shifting had one focus. I heard a voice call out over the people. It was Reaper. He was in front of the crowd – I couldn’t see him but there was no mistaking the sound of him.
“Let’s go cause some mischief!” he yelled in a voice that could be heard all across the field.
The people cheered and the Nightstalkers roared in response to his words.
Mischief, indeed.
There was a pause as Reaper prepared his people to start moving, then the crowd shifted and we started forward. As we walked, I felt the shimmering of Preacher’s illusion cover us. We would be nothing more than the desert to any who saw us from a distance. To those who saw us up close, well, it would be too late for them.
It did not take us long to make it to Marcus’ fortress, despite the distance. Our bodies were limitless – we could have walked a hundred times further and still felt refreshed and eager to fight.
The tower appeared in front of us. Even from the distance, I had no trouble taking in the details. It was a white tower, which was built in to the stone. The tower looked old and weathered with the ages. It made me wonder if Marcus had not discovered the tower, just as he had discovered my family history. The tower was tall and had architectural detail that his place in Alaska had lacked. It was elegant, instead of blocky; curved instead of bland. The ground level had no windows, but there was a broad set of steps and a heavy metal door that separated the interior from the exterior. The top of the tower had a large balcony, which looked over the seething mass of humanity. I imagined it as a watchtower – a place to keep an eye out for enemies. Two people, who were obscured by thick cloaks stood at the top of the tower. They looked out over the desert with cold detachme
nt. I could not see their faces.
On the desert floor was the largest collection of Watchers I had ever seen. I could tell in a glance that they outnumbered us. I could also tell they did not have the same spirit we had – they had lust for death, not hope for life. There were Nightstalkers and Watchers mixed in together, spaced strategically. In front of them were zombie-Watchers – the dead were used as a buffer between the Seekers and the Saints. The Seekers stood on the dry landscape with unnatural stillness. They were waiting, expectant for the coming storm. They were all dressed in black, with the snake emblem on the center of their chests. The glint of silver from the sun reflected back their swords, knives, and other weapons. Overhead, Margaret’s storm clouds boiled with increasing fury. Dark clouds marched across the blue sky. The storm was coming. No one could stop it.
The Saints circled the army as quickly and as quietly as we could. I knew that Reaper was at the center of our army with the others spaced strategically, as they had discussed at the camp. Daniel was to the right of Reaper; King was to the left. As the Saints fell in to position, my group moved to the far left. We were the last in line. The mountain closed us in on the left. Nightstalkers were to our right. Our vantage point of the fight was perfect. It was also perfect in that I had a clear viewpoint of the large door separating me from Marcus. I could see where Marcus had dug in to the rock. A large ramp disappeared in to the earth directly next to the tower. His digging had taken him farther in to the earth than I had thought. I wondered if he had found what he had been searching for…
Our people in place, Preacher lowered the illusion surrounding Reaper and Daniel’s part of the army. The Seekers maintained their calm. They had been waiting for us. Marcus knew we were coming. Did he also know our deception? I had to hope not.
As our people appeared, one of the figures on the balcony stepped out of sight. At the same time, the second figure lowered his hood. My eyes were drawn to his face. The Asian features, the deadly black eyes and the lean frame were familiar. Nguyen was in the tower with his master. It had been a long time since I had seen his face, but it was not nearly long enough. My blood boiled at the sight of him. He had kidnapped Han and Beatrice – had forced them through months of emotional torture and endless fear. He was Marcus’ right hand, the instrument of his will. I wanted to chop the right hand off. Seeing him made me all the more determined to get inside.
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