by Jacob Whaler
“Exactly,” Ryzaard says. “Not just Europe. The rest of the world.”
Kalani puts his feet on the floor and sits up. “How can we do that?”
“It won’t be easy.” Jing-wei shifts on her feet. “Europe is a powder keg. On the verge of breaking up into hundreds of tiny kingdoms. Back to the Middle Ages.”
“You’re right about the politics, but I disagree with your analysis of the situation. We can accomplish our goal with a single stroke.” Ryzaard smiles. “We have the tools at our fingertips.” He looks from Jing-wei to Kalani.
“War.” Jing-wei turns and walks past Ryzaard’s desk to the window. “War has always been the most effective tool for manipulating the masses.”
“We’re going to start a war?” The whites of Kalani’s eyes engulf his pupils.
Ryzaard walks back to his chair and sits. “You said it yourself. No more secrets. We have full access to all electronic communications on the planet.” He picks up the green globe from off the floor and drops it on the desk. “We now have six Stones. We have the launch codes. We have everything we need. This should be easy.”
“So that’s our assignment, isn’t it?” Jing-wei steps away from the window. “You want us to figure out a way to spark a crises, a war, that will compel Europe to accept Shinto.”
“Yes, but not just Europe. I want the entire world to be moved to action.” Ryzaard begins to pull the six Stones from the sphere, one by one, dropping them into slots in the leather harness on his chest. “And I’m not aiming for the world to only accept Shinto. The world must embrace it. Hunger for it.”
Kalani sighs. “And how long do we have to come up with this master plan?”
“Seventy-two hours.”
CHAPTER 71
The stench of human bodies is overpowering.
Jessica and Eva sit in the tiny mess hall of the submarine, waiting for the captain to arrive. When he finally gets there, he can hardly conceal the anger on his face.
“I’ve got a family of four that’s set up camp on the floor of my control room. People are sleeping in the halls.” He slams the door shut behind him and leans against the wall. “They’re eating all our food and breathing all our oxygen.”
“They’re also from your village, people you grew up with.” Eva glares back at him.
The captain clenches his jaw. “I left that village thirty years ago and never wanted to see it again.”
“Look,” Jessica says. “I know it’s uncomfortable.”
“Insane is a better word. There’s no way—”
Jessica lifts her hand, shutting down the captain. “Eva and I have talked to the passengers. We’re going to drop most of them off at neighboring villages on the coast. We’ve already been in contact with them through the radio, and they’ve agreed to help.”
“Good,” says the captain. He folds his arms across his chest. “The sooner the better.”
Jessica clears her throat. “In the meantime, we have bigger issues to deal with.”
“Like where do we go from here?” Eva says.
The captain lowers his voice. “I’ve figured out one thing.”
“What’s that?” Jessica looks up.
“How they tracked us.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small ring-shaped piece of metal no larger than his thumbnail with black glass running along the top. “One of the mechanics helped me disable it. Made to look like a barnacle. An ingenious device.”
“Abomination,” Eva says.
Jessica lets her head drop back. “What’s our range?”
“About 6,000 miles without refueling.” The captain opens a cabinet near his head and pulls out an open can of sardines.
“Where’s the nearest freedom camp?”
Eva bends forward on the opposite side of the table. “Several of the camps hug the west coast of the U.S. Then Hawaii. Even Japan.”
Jessica lifts her head back up. “Japan?”
“The eastern tip of Hokkaido,” Eva says. “Near a little town called Nemuro. I’ve heard there’s hardly anything there.”
“That’s perfect.” She looks up at the captain.
“Are you serious?” he says.
“It feels right.” Jessica says. “Set a course for Japan as soon as we drop off the villagers.”
“And clean out the ship.” The captain slips a sardine into his mouth. He turns to leave, reaching out for the door.
Jessica puts a hand on his back. “Just one more thing, Captain.”
“What’s that?”
“Double check the hull for any more of those tracking devices. I want to be sure we’re not being followed this time.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
CHAPTER 72
Matt freezes. “I’m not sure we can kill Jhata. Better to just jump away.”
“No.” Yarah speaks slowly, her voice barely audible. “She said she was my fairy godmother, but she’s not. She lied to me about everything. She wants to kill you and Leo. She thinks it’s fun to destroy worlds and all their people. We have to do it.”
“Do what?” Matt says.
Yarah stands and puts her arms on Matt, burying her face in his shirt. “If we don’t stop her now, she’ll find a way to come to Earth. She’ll destroy everything. All the people.” Big tears form like diamonds in the corner of her eyes. She takes a big gulp of air. “We can’t let her live.”
Jhata lies in a heap on the floor, next to Leo, her eyes closed, a Stone gripped in his fingers.
Yarah pulls on Matt’s blue arm. “We have to do it. It’s better that she die. Enough planets have been destroyed.”
“I know.” Matt swallows and takes Yarah by the hand. “You’re right. We have no choice.”
Leo’s eyes drift open.
“No.” Leo’s head slowly shakes from side to side. “No more killing.” He reaches out for Yarah, and she takes his hand. “Just jump us far away.”
“But I’ve been inside her.” Yarah’s voice breaks as tears flow down her cheeks. “I’ve seen everything. How she thinks. What she wants. Who she is. It’s all darkness and death. She’s killed billions of people.” Yarah starts to scream out the words, losing control of her emotions. “Billions more will die. She can’t be satisfied. Always hungry for more. Always empty and starving. I saw it. I felt it. When I was in her and she was in me, I wanted it too. I could be just like her.” Yarah stiffens her body and stretches out her own trembling arm, pointing her Stone at Jhata. The little girl’s eyes are full of hurt and pain.
“You’re right, Yarah. We have to kill her. But it may not be possible. We’re on her world.” Matt’s hand shoots out and cups itself over Yarah’s fingers and her Stone. “It’s for me to do. Not you.”
Yarah relaxes, and she leans heavily on Matt.
“There must be another way,” Leo raises himself up on his elbow and slumps again. His fingers close tighter on Yarah’s hand.
“No, Leo.” Matt takes one step forward and looks at Jhata. “Yarah is right. There isn’t another way. I wish there were, but there isn’t.”
Matt raises his Stone. A sphere of blue energy grows on its tip from the size of a marble until it’s as large as Matt’s head. He braces himself and lets it break from the Stone.
It burrows into Jhata’s chest and disappears. Her entire body goes stiff, legs and arms shooting out. She starts to shake and tremble.
Matt closes his eyes and bends forward, flexing the muscles in his body. Another sphere of light shoots out of his Stone into Jhata.
Her eyelids flutter.
“She’s starting to come back.” Yarah’s eyes open wide, and she pulls on Matt’s arm, panic in her face. “We have to leave. Right now.”
Matt shakes his head. “But I have to kill—”
“No,” Yarah says. “There’s something wrong.” She closes her eyes and falls silent. Then her eyes fly open. “It’s a trap. She’s got armor under her skin. Like a shield. You can’t kill her. None of us can.” Yarah screams. “She’s reaching out fo
r me. Please! Jump us away.” She pulls on Matt and Leo.
A smile crawls across Jhata’s face.
“Here we go.” Matt’s eyes drop shut. He can see where he wants to take Yarah and Leo. Another second and they will be gone. The air is saturated with a faint golden glow.
“Not so fast.” Jhata’s arm shoots out. Her fingers grip Leo’s ankle. “Didn’t you hear what I told you before? None of you are going anywhere.”
The destination slips away from Matt’s mind. He tries, again and again, but something holds him back.
“I told you we’d end up back here.” Jhata struggles to sit up, rising a couple of inches, but falling back to the floor. “Now it’s just a matter of time before I have my strength back.”
Leo lifts up his Stone in one hand. It’s glowing white. He looks into Yarah’s eyes, smiles, and lets his fingers slip from her grip.
“No!” She reaches out for him, but Leo pulls away.
He twists his body and, raising himself up, brings his Stone down onto Jhata’s thigh. The tip goes in deep, drawing blood. Clenching his jaw, he pushes the Stone in even deeper, and smoke rises from the wound.
Jhata screams.
With bloodshot eyes, Leo turns his gaze to Matt. “Go! Now!”
Matt shakes his head. “We’re not leaving you.”
With her other hand, Jhata points her fingers at Leo. Purple lightning jumps from her fingertips and riddles his body, opening deep wounds.
Using the last of his strength, Leo opens his mouth wide, releasing a yell that springs from deep in his throat. His Stone turns blue, and the color spreads out through Jhata’s body.
She shrieks with agony.
The Stone in her other hand spits out purple darts that rake across Leo’s chest and belly. His eyes sweep past Matt and Yarah, face bulging.
And then his body opens up and bursts from within.
Jhata falls back and collapses to the floor.
For a second, Jhata’s hold on Matt slips away. He grips Yarah’s hand and finds the destination.
Goodbye, Leo.
They vanish in a flash of white.
CHAPTER 73
“Where are you going this time?” Alexa pauses at the door to Ryzaard’s office.
“The foot of Mount Parnassus.” He pulls the tweed jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over his shoulders. “I haven’t been in Greece for at least twenty-five years.”
Alexa has a surprised look on her face. “I went there many times as a child when we were visiting relatives in Athens.” She walks past the grandfather clock on the left wall straight to the window. Leaning forward, she presses her forehead against the window and gazes at the city. “Is that where the next Stone is?”
“The seventh.” Ryzaard pulls the old leather-bound notebook from the inside pocket of his tweed jacket and flips it open.
Alexa walks to the desk and opens a drawer. “What’s the Stone Holder’s name?” She takes out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. One glass goes on the desk next to Ryzaard. With the other glass in hand, she walks to the sofa, sits and pops the cork, not bothering to stop the bubbly liquid that runs out on the carpet.
Ryzaard fingers the glass. “The Stone Holder’s name? I’m sure you can guess this one.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She pours the glass half full and drains it in a couple of gulps. “The Oracle?” She studies the glass, frowns, and drops it on the floor, letting it shatter.
“Exactly.” He smells the aroma of the champagne. “What did you expect?”
“If I recall my history, the Temple of Delphi was destroyed almost 2,000 years ago.” Alexa takes a long pull straight from the bottle and waves it in the direction of Ryzaard, inviting him to sit by her and share a drink. “I think Mr. Naganuma must have gotten carried away when he made that entry in the little black book. There’s no Delphic Oracle at the foot of Mount Parnassus. If there were, I’d know about it.”
“Don’t be so sure. If there were still a Delphic Oracle with a Stone, I don’t think they would advertise the fact.” He picks the green globe off the desk in one hand, palming it like a basketball and walks by Alexa.
She holds out the bottle to him, but Ryzaard ignores it and walks by.
“One thing is sure.” He walks to the center of the room, brushing the dust off his jacket with his free hand. “The world no longer needs an Oracle, especially one that hides in the shadows and does nothing. Whoever he or she may be, they’ll soon be dead.”
“You’re not taking me with you?”
Ryzaard shrugs his shoulders. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.” He points to the champagne bottle in Alexa’s hand. “I’ll take a drink of that when I get back. You’ve got just enough time to make sure it’s properly chilled.”
He nods and vanishes, leaving behind a bright residue of fading light.
It’s still dawn in Greece when Ryzaard opens his eyes and looks up at the pale pink sky.
He walks on grass in the center of a ring of stones, each four feet high and shaped like rectangles standing on end. They are spaced evenly apart to form a circle thirty feet in diameter. Three marble columns stand in front of him, topped with a carefully carved horizontal beam of gray granite. This motley collection is all that remains of the structure that once adorned the mountainside.
The white ruins of an ancient Greek temple complex stand out against green mountains dotted with outcroppings of rock and fallen boulders. The fragrance of cedar wood floats by on a gentle morning breeze. Songbirds keep up a constant din of noise in the treetops.
Ryzaard allows his eyelids to drop.
For just a moment, he is six years old, playing among the ancient trees in the park across from his home in Poland.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
His eyes shoot open at the sound of the voice. Turning abruptly, he sees a young man in khaki pants and a round sunhat walking to him with a slate in his hand. He has a look of official authority mixed with mild concern.
“I’m not sure how you got here, sir, but the site doesn’t open to the public for another hour.” The young man stares at the green globe of glass and steel hanging from Ryzaard’s hand. “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to—”
Narrowing his eyes, Ryzaard turns and walks away in silence.
“But sir,” the young man says.
The slate falls from the young man’s fingers and shatters on a rock. Both hands go up to his chest, clutching at his shirt. Blood pours from his mouth and nose.
The choking sound fades as Ryzaard strolls down a rock path past the large columns. Ten seconds later, the young man’s body slumps to the ground like a bag of pebbles.
After a five minute walk past a graveyard of boulders, through a grove of trees and down a long flight of stone steps, Ryzaard emerges into an open, flat area at the foot of the mountain. To his right, he sees an ancient Greek stadium with its terraced stones. To the left are numerous lone marble columns standing on a field of grass.
He takes a yellow jax out of the inside pocket of his tweed suit, brushes a finger along its side and holds it in his open palm.
The color image of a young man with dark hair materializes above Ryzaard’s hand. He’s looking at a blue screen imbedded in his desk.
“Dr. Ryzaard.” Diego’s voice sounds canned and tinny in the thin air. “I’ve been following your progress. I see you’ve made it to the main temple site.”
Ryzaard casts his eyes up past the mountainside as Diego speaks. “Can you give me the latest reading on the location of the Stone?”
“Let’s see.” Diego’s fingers tap on glass. “It’s about four hundred meters straight ahead and down fifty.”
“Are you sure?”
A long moment of silence passes.
“Just did a reconfirm of the location algorithm,” Diego says. “It comes up with the same answer.”
“Most peculiar.” Ryzaard looks forward at the cliff face rising straight up from the val
ley floor two hundred meters away. “But not surprising. I didn’t really expect to find the Oracle out in the open. Can you scan for any openings in the rock face directly to the west of me?”
“I’ve been scanning since you called.”
“And?”
Ryzaard can see Diego’s fingers tapping and swiping a glass screen.
“Doesn’t make sense,” Diego says.
The sound of human voices approaches Ryzaard from behind. “Tell me anyway.” He breaks into a brisk walk toward the cliff face.
“According to my instruments, you’re looking at a single, unbroken chunk of granite. Solid. All one piece. Nearly a perfect cube, three hundred meters on a side. The cliff face in front of you is just one of the exposed sides. The rest is embedded in the mountain. No external cracks or fissures. And no openings to the outside.”
“Of course,” Ryzaard says. “I should have suspected.”
Diego stares at his desk. “The Stone appears to be in the dead center of the rock.”
“Is there an open cavity inside?”
“Unfortunately,” Diego says, “my instruments can’t penetrate it with sufficient clarity to get an answer. I’ve tried to patch in one of our multi-spectrum satellite probes with 3-D imaging capability, but that doesn’t help either. The only way I’ve even getting a signal is through your Stones.”
Two people, a man and woman, descend the stairs behind Ryzaard and enter the open plaza.
Ryzaard slips behind a tree. “Send me the exact coordinates of the signal inside the rock.”
“Sure, but what are you going to—”
“Don’t ask.” Ryzaard’s voice drops to a whisper and he flatten himself against a tree. “Just send the coordinates to my jax.”
Diego’s holo image moves between bluescreens. “You should have it now.” A few seconds roll by, and then he looks up, his eyes widening with a sudden flash of understanding. “No. Don’t do it. Don’t jump into the middle of the rock.”
Ryzaard peeks past the tree at the man and woman coming closer. “Why not?”
“Look. We have a cube shape imbedded in the mountain that my instruments can’t penetrate.” Diego shakes his head. “There’s something strange going on here. What if you jump into the middle of it and find out there’s nothing there but solid granite? Or worse. Maybe it’s a trap.”