The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  “We’re facing extinction; I would say that every single man, woman or child alive right now is our priority!” Danny glares at Tom, who mulls this over for a moment before nodding briskly.

  “You’re right,” he admits, clapping a beefy hand on his friend's shoulder. Turning to us, not at all apologetic for his earlier dismissal of our safety, he gives a small salute.

  “Tom Stewart, nice to meet you. And this is Daniel Allen,” he indicates the younger man.

  “I’m Rachel and this is Dex,” I make the introduction.

  “Follow Danny here,” Tom offers, “I’ll be right behind you.” I nod immediately, although my nerves are fraying. How am I going to keep Dex’s secret from the army?

  “You’re National Guard?” Dex speaks out for the first time, feigning curiosity, but I can sense there is more to the question.

  “At your service, I can also rewire your entire house if you’re ever in need of an electrician,” Tom winks at us before he returns to his Humvee and then we all drive down the street in convoy, our Toyota in the middle.

  “Is the National Guard the army?” I ask, as soon as we are on our way.

  “No, not exactly. It’s a reserve military force – it’s made up of civilians who have day jobs,” he adds as I narrow my eyes in confusion. “That’s what he meant about re-wiring your house; he’s obviously an electrician by trade. The National Guard is only activated when a nation mobilizes for war or to defend against invasion,” he smirks at the last part.

  “So where are the real army?”

  “The army will be around don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. The sheer size of your land-based military operations means it takes slightly longer to mobilize.”

  “How do you know so much about it?”

  “What do you think I was doing here seven years ago?” That hurt me, but, oblivious, he continues, “I know everything your defense force will do and why it won’t work.”

  “And why won’t it work?” I snap. He taps the steering-wheel with his thumbs.

  “I’m not insulting you, Rachel. Your Department of Defense is one of the best we’ve seen. Why do you think I’m here, in the U.S, and not in another of your world’s countries? It’s the biggest potential threat. All of your military departments – Army, Navy and Air Force are exceptional. Unfortunately, it’s not enough. Even your most advanced technology is no match for our abilities.” I pout at this, feeling frustrated and angry. I cross my arms over my chest and Dex chuckles beside me. “You remind me of my sister when you act like that,” he chides.

  “Voka?” I uncross my arms and stare at his profile. “How so?”

  “She sulks when she doesn’t get her own way too.”

  “She’s royalty too, right? A princess?”

  “Yes and she’d never let you forget it. Voka is what you might call self-indulgent.”

  “Voka is a murderous bitch,” I correct, and then, realizing I may be going too far, “she can control all the elements too?” I try to keep my voice light and unassuming. He nods as we make a right turn and I focus on the road, my head spinning. There is something here, a clue that is buried in my subconscious, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to recall it.

  “I always wished I had a sister,” I said, playing with the frayed edge of my cream cardigan, “but mom nearly died giving birth to me and dad wouldn’t let her risk having any more kids. They played with the idea of adopting for a while, but eventually decided against it. Then Kimberley came along and it was as if my prayers had been answered. She’s like a sister to me even though there’s no blood relationship.”

  “Blood relatives are overrated,” Dex sighed, leaning back on his elbows and watching the ducklings playing near the water's edge.

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “Two,” he answers, pulling a blade of grass out of the ground and stripping it with his long tanned fingers. “One brother, one sister.”

  “Older or younger?” I asked.

  “He’s older, she’s younger,” he grinned then, “but I’m my parents' favorite.”

  I suck in a gasp of air as my eyes refocus on the road and the memory fades. Dex and Voka have a brother and with their parents, that makes them a family of five. Five of us, he had said... five of them who could control all the elements. Could it be his family? But he also mentioned that only three of them could control the storm so that doesn’t make sense. Unless the girls have...

  “Stop that!” Dex roars suddenly, and I jump in fright, clutching my chest. “Stop it,” he repeats, a muscle going in his jaw, “figuring things out will only put you in even more danger.”

  All the air seems to whoosh out of my body and my mind goes blank, unable to comprehend what has just happened. This is not the first time I have suspected Dex of reading my thoughts, but it is the first time he’s admitted to it.

  “How did you...” I leave the question hanging, unable to find the right words.

  “The fifth element,” he answers, his eyes never leaving the road, “quintessence.”

  Chapter 16

  “Quintessence isn’t real. It’s a myth, an ancient philosophy!”

  “No, it’s not. It’s real. It’s the essence of a thing in its purest form.”

  “So you can control my essence?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I won’t control you. If I could, don’t you think you’d be a lot more eager to accompany me back to Venon?”

  “Then how do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “I don’t most of the time. Sometimes it’s just a sensation, a glimpse of your mood. But sometimes,” he glances over at me, gauging my reaction, “well, sometimes when you feel particularly strongly about something...”

  “Spit it out, Dex.”

  “Well, it’s kind of like you’re screaming it at me. And it comes through pretty loud and clear. Quintessence is essentially the essence of a thing in its most concentrated form, so possibly when you are feeling something particularly strongly it exposes me to that final element.” There it is again; the evasive withholding of information that Dex is so good at. I just don’t believe him.

  “You manipulate the elements – you control them. Based on that you should be able to manipulate my mind, control it even, just like the other elements. How is this any different?” He looks suddenly uneasy and shifts in his seat.

  “It’s not something I’m comfortable with,” he admits.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s not an ability I want to hone, let’s just put it that way. It feels awkward, unnatural even. Bending someone’s will should be reserved for the Gods.”

  That floors me, that he shows humility even when he is so powerful, and that he believes in free will, even though death means nothing to him. I comprehend, with shock, that if he really wanted to, nothing could stop him from taking me with him when he leaves. The only thing stopping him right now is a crisis of conscience.

  “Would you ever force me to do something I didn’t want to do?”

  “No,” he shakes his head, braking as the Humvee ahead of us does, “I don’t even know if I would be able to. Controlling quintessence is a lot harder than manipulating the other four elements. There are only a couple of us who can do it, and only one person powerful enough to perfect it.” He trails off again and I can sense that he’s said more than he intended to. He doesn’t look angry, though. Something has definitely changed in him since the storm last night. He has lowered his guard and is letting me in, little by little. I can sense that his loyalty has shifted, that he is no longer intent on destroying mankind. There is hope, I think. And hope is the most powerful thing in the world.

  “It’s your family, isn’t it?” I push, determined to get the truth out of him. The exceptions that he keeps mentioning, the secrets he is not yet prepared to reveal, I am sure that they are all related to his family – his brother, sister and parents. The King and Queen, I think sharply, taken aback that I didn’t think of this before. The
King of Venon is determined to destroy us all. The thought is sobering. Dex has not answered me, but his eyes narrow, as if he listening to something that only he can hear. He gives a shout of warning but it is too late – an enormous shearing sound rends the air as if hundreds of industrial grinding machines have just been switched on and the ground up ahead splits in two, creating a vast canyon in the middle of nowhere.

  The Humvee in front of us slams on brakes but not fast enough, and the monstrous military vehicle slides over the edge of the newly formed cliff just ahead, plummeting to the ground some three hundred feet below. Dex’s foot is already flat on the brake pedal and we screech to a stop almost as if in slow motion, inch by precious inch. Just as I think we’re actually going to make it, the front right tire goes over the edge beneath me and the Toyota careens violently forward.

  We are suspended, hanging precariously over the abyss and I barely dare to breathe. I can hear the shouts of Tom’s team behind us but my gaze is fixed on the black-clad woman standing on the opposite edge of the ravine. Her hair is long and blonde like mine, but her eyes are glowing emerald. She raises her hand, but before even the slightest tremor emanates around her, Dex roars, in a voice I have never heard, “Dallan!” His voice rings with authority and menace, and that one single word stops the woman in her tracks. Her eyes fix on Dex through the windscreen, widening in shock and fear. She hesitates, taking a step forward toward the abyss and then she gives a small shake of her head, as though clearing her thoughts. In the space it takes for me to blink, she is gone.

  “Rachel,” Dex murmurs, closing his eyes, “don’t even breathe.” I focus only on his face as he opens his eyes again and the familiar glow is back. Ignoring the ominous creaks as the Toyota slowly sways on the spot, I brace one hand on the dashboard and one on my seat, trying to make myself as weightless as possible.

  The earth below us starts to tremble and slowly, infinitely slowly, the Toyota starts to rise, as if the ground below is repairing itself. The tendons in Dex’s arms are bulging and he looks as though he is in physical pain. I barely register this when the car lurches forward again and Dex opens his eyes, panting. He stares at me, a bewildered expression on his face.

  “Get to the back, get out,” he orders, casting a glance over his shoulder at where the others are huddled around the trunk. They seem too nervous to touch the car for fear of unbalancing it.

  “Are you all okay?” I hear Tom’s voice and I nod before shouting back.

  “We’re okay.”

  “We’re going to try and put weight on the back end,” he continues, “try and weight it down so that...”

  “No!” Dex yells a warning, “it’s too risky! Rachel’s coming out, just be ready to grab her!”

  “I’m not leaving without you,” I whisper urgently, but he just smiles trying to placate me.

  “Yes, you are. Now move.”

  I breathe in deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth, and then I nod quickly, removing my right hand from the dash and placing it behind the headrest of Dex’s seat. Slowly, I ease my reluctant body up and out of my chair toward the space between the seats, but I haven’t gotten far when the car emits a loud creak and pitches forward. I fall heavily back into my seat and the impact seems to be too much for the infinitely delicate stability of the Toyota. With a spine-chilling grating sound, the nose of the car tips even further forward and we start to slowly slide forward.

  “No!” Dex grabs the steering-wheel, his eyes gleaming, and, as he lets out a bellow of pain and effort, our forward momentum stops. I watch in horror as his muscles strain and a sheen of sweat breaks out across his forehead. His face is contorted in agony and intense concentration, as inch by inch, the car rights itself. I can hear the earth beneath us shifting and sliding, as if building blocks are being slotted into place to support the sedan. I give tiny shrieks of terror at every small bump and tilt but I cannot take my eyes off Dex. The strain of using his power is taking its toll and his arms are shaking with exertion, his face deathly pale. Eventually, I feel the Toyota roll backward, onto firm ground, and I almost pass out in relief. My door is hauled open and gentle hands pull me from the car. I meet Tom’s wide hazel eyes and then I am out in the open, sucking in huge gasps of fresh air. They are pulling Dex out too and I start to totter around the car on shaky legs to thank him and check if he is okay. Before I can reach him a loud boom reverberates in my ears and a burst of red blossoms near his right shoulder, the blood slowly spreading across his white T-shirt.

  Through his pallor, I see the bewildered expression cross his face and I launch myself at him just as he slumps to his knees. Shielding him with my own body I turn ferociously on Tom, who still has his gun pointed at Dex. Without a thought to the consequences I reach behind Dex and pull Dennis’s gun from the waistband of his jeans, swinging it in an arc and aiming it right at Tom’s weather-beaten face.

  “Whoa, easy Miss,” Tom raises his left hand, his right still training his gun on us, “didn’t you see what he just did? He’s one of them,” he points out, “he has their abilities.”

  “Yeah, and he saved my life!” I yell, desperate to turn around and check on Dex, who is ominously quiet behind me. “Look, you don’t understand,” I mutter frantically, needing them to believe me. “He is one of them but he’s on our side. He’s been helping us from the beginning; he killed all of those who attacked us back in Weehawken. He’s on our side!” I repeat, starting to sob. I can’t contain myself any longer and I toss the gun aside, turning to assess the damage.

  Dex is even paler than before. He is slumped on the ground, his eyes closed, long dark lashes sweeping his cheeks. I press my hand firmly against the bullet hole trying to stem the bleeding. There doesn’t seem to be that much blood, which I take as a good sign, and at least they shot him in the shoulder and not in the chest.

  “Can you hear me?” I whisper urgently, resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder and check what the others are doing. If there are half a dozen weapons aimed at me I’d rather not know it.

  “I’ll be fine,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. He coughs, clearing his throat.

  “You’ll start healing soon, right?”

  “Any minute now,” he quips lightly, grimacing in pain, and I smile through my tears. I feel strong hands pulling me away and I twist violently, ready to lash out.

  “It’s all right, love,” Tom hastens to placate me, “Nicholas over there is a medic, he’s going to help,” he nods at the wiry, auburn-haired man who is bending over Dex and I heave a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you,” I smile weakly, dropping to my knees in the dirt as I watch them tending to Dex’s injuries.

  Understandably, Tom Stewart has a lot of questions. His first instinct is to restrain Dex like a common criminal.

  “You can’t do that,” I insist.

  “Young lady, that man is dangerous. He’s one of these... these... what did you call them?”

  “Venites; but that’s not what I meant. I meant you can’t restrain him – literally. He’ll be free of his cuffs in a matter of seconds.” I’m not sure what method Dex would employ to escape any restraints; whether he would freeze them or melt them, or simply kill everyone in sight and then pluck the keys from Tom’s lifeless body, but I do know that there is no way I can allow them to do this.

  “How do we know he won’t kill us all the moment he wakes up?” Tom asks nervously. “I mean, I did shoot him.” I can tell that, in this moment, Tom is wishing very much that he hadn’t.

  “He won’t,” I assure him, “I’ve already explained this to you. He’s not like the others. He wants to help.”

  “Why is he so different? To the others?” I cast a furtive glance across to where Dex is being tended to. His color is returning and his breathing seems deeper, less raspy than before. Nicholas had removed the bullet and I am fairly sure that he is healing as we speak.

  “I’m not sure,” I reply eventually, avoiding the older man’s eyes, “he just is.”
/>   Chapter 17

  I answer all their questions as carefully as I can while Dex sleeps. I am cautious not to give away any more than I need to, simply sticking to my story that Dex has been helping us since this all started. I omit the part where Dex was party to killing our own before I found him in Central Park. I realize that, by protecting Dex, I am withholding information that could potentially help our defense force, but I cannot bring myself to betray him, not after he saved my life; after what we have been through. I admit that the Venites are able to manipulate the elements, but I don’t mention the storms or Dex’s remarkable ability. I don’t think it would be wise to inform them of his royal status either; they might think to use him for leverage, as a hostage, and that wouldn’t do anybody any good. Dex would retaliate and more people would get hurt. The only chance we have is to keep Dex on our side. I know that when he wakes up they will interrogate him too and I can only hope that he doesn’t lose his temper. I am also desperate to find out what happened; why his abilities seemed to fail him. Tom is devastated over Danny’s death and part of why he reacted so strongly is that he thought Dex might have caused the accident. I explain gently that it was another Venite and give him a description of the blonde woman I saw at the scene.

  “We need to get going,” I tell Tom after about an hour of questioning. I am worried about missing the others if we don’t get there by noon and, even more so, I am concerned about the woman – Dallan, Dex called her - who attacked us. I have no idea where she went but there’s no telling when she will return and how many reinforcements she may bring with her. Tom agrees that it’s not safe for us to stay in the vicinity of the attack and so we move on. I convince Tom to let me travel with Dex.

  “Don’t try anything,” he warns as we load Dex into the Toyota.

  “You’re forgetting we’re on the same side,” I reply coldly and he has the good grace to blush.

  I am driving the Toyota with Dex sprawled across the back seat and a member of the guard, hardly older than I am, seated beside me. His name is Ray and Tom insisted he travel with us for our own safety, although I am more inclined to believe that Tom doesn’t want me to have an opportunity to warn Dex how much I have told them. Fortunately Ray is younger and far more open-minded than the older man. No sooner have we pulled off when he professes that Dex is a symbol of hope and that, without him, or more like him, we’re basically screwed.