by Jacob Whaler
More sweet odors float past his face.
“I see another with a Stone,” the voice says. “Strong. Young. He also seeks a new world, a world without suffering and pain. Like you, he knows much of both. The Stone fills his mind with visions and hope. And fear.”
“Yes,” Ryzaard says. “I know of the young man in the Congo. We have been watching him for many weeks. That is my next stop.”
The sound of shifting linen robes circles to the left of Ryzaard and stops in the darkness directly in front of him. His instincts tell him it’s less than five meters away. His right hand drops to the floor where he finds the dagger, its blade cold and moist. Tracing a line along the metal, his fingers find the handle and wrap tightly around it.
“What else can you tell me of this last Stone Holder?” Ryzaard leans forward, listening intently.
“You may succeed in killing the young man in the Congo. That is none of my concern. I do not speak of the Congo.”
“What?” Ryzaard’s eyes narrow in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“You know the young man of whom I speak. You have tried to kill him many times. And you have always failed.”
The words are like a wall of steel slamming into Ryzaard’s body, pushing the air out of his chest. For an instant, he is lightheaded, on the verge of blacking out. Staggering backward, he tries to regain his balance and composure.
“The young man you speak of is dead. Not by my hands, but by the hands of another. One not of this world, but with many more Stones than I. He is nothing compared to someone so great and powerful as her. I tell you, he is dead.” Ryzaard throws the words out like a challenge to the voice. He bends forward, his body coiled like a cobra ready to strike. Rage builds from within, boiling up like a subterranean flow of magma racing to the surface. Trying to relax, he listens for any sound in the darkness.
The aroma of honey mixed with wine fills his nostrils.
“He lives.”
“You lie!” Releasing the tension in his muscles, Ryzaard springs forward into the void, his knife brandished in front, slashing wildly at the unseen apparition of the voice.
Blinding light bursts out of the darkness.
The vague outline of a pale-skinned human form appears, sitting on the floor of the cavern, its hand resting on a massive white snake coiled loosely around its waist.
Without warning, Ryzaard’s body is lifted in the air and flies back through empty blackness, slamming into a wall, his arms and legs hanging loosely at his side. As he hangs there, an unseen force pushes on his chest.
“The young man lives.” The voice floats in front of Ryzaard, not far away. “He will come back, seeking the one he loves.”
“Tell me, Oracle.” Ryzaard uses the last of the air in his lungs to whisper a final question. “How can I kill him?”
The same low laugh breaks out. “In this battle, I am neutral. I watch and wait for the day of peace. Which of you will bring it? I do not know. But this much I can tell you.” The sound of dry skin sliding over smooth rock floats up from the floor. “Either you both will live, or you both will die. Now, leave me.”
“Wait!” Ryzaard says.
Another blinding flash.
The aroma of cedar trees wafts by on a light breeze. Ryzaard lies on the ground at the base of a tree in the same spot from which he made the jump into the mountain. Leaves flutter in the wind above him. Far off voices talk and laugh.
The green globe lies at his feet, six Stones arranged in a neat row beside it.
CHAPTER 78
No appetite. Not hungry.
“Here’s dinner. We have to eat.” Matt puts the bowl of rice topped with shredded beef in front of Yarah. “Use your chopsticks.”
The pungent fragrance of garlic and ginger mixed with green onions drifts up in a white cloud of steam.
Yarah looks down, unmoving.
Matt forces himself to shovel food into his mouth. It’s tasteless.
He puts a spoon in front of Yarah. “Use this.”
It had only taken a few minutes for Matt to rebuild the Japanese house. He spent a little more time making the food, finding an escape from grief at the loss of Leo and fear about what might have happened to Jessica.
Yarah looks up. “What is it?”
“Gyudon,” Matt says. “Beef and rice.”
A small spoonful goes into her mouth. “Delicious.” She pauses for a drink of water and then, eyes focusing on the table, carefully lays the spoon down. “Thanks. I’m full.”
“We have a lot ahead of us. We need to eat to keep up our strength.” Matt picks up a shiny piece of meat. Rivers of brown sauce drip off it as he brings it close to his nose, inhaling the aroma, but finding it flat. He forces it into his mouth, chewing mechanically, without tasting.
“Come on Yarah, eat even if you aren’t hungry.” Matt motions at the bowl in front of her. “Just keep putting it in your mouth. Relax. Chew. Swallow. You need it.”
Maybe Yarah will talk about what happened with Jhata. That’s most of the reason for making the food. Matt needs to know everything he can about Jhata before leaving his world of safety and venturing back to Earth.
One thing is certain. After what Yarah and Matt just did to Jhata, she’ll be coming after them. And the whole human race.
“Go ahead,” Yarah says. “It’s OK.”
“What do you mean?”
She forces a spoonful into her mouth. Chews twice and swallows hard. Her eyes peek at Matt over the top of the bowl. “You want to talk about Jhata, right?”
Matt almost chokes on his rice. “Yes. I do.” He reaches for a glass of water. “Can you tell me what happened back there? What you remember. I need to know before we go back to Earth after Jessica. We don’t have much time.”
Yarah stares at her bowl. “Do I have to eat?”
“Yes. Even if you’re not hungry.” Matt reaches over the table and picks up Yarah’s bowl. “It’s no good when it’s cold. I’ll get you some fresh rice and meat.” The stove is on the other side of the room. He walks across the tatami floor, taking in the texture of the rice straw under the soles of his bare feet. Glancing outside, he sees that it is already dark. Cicadas play a symphony in the background.
A perfect evening if only Jessica were here.
Walking back to the low table, Matt puts a steaming bowl in front of Yarah.
“Thanks.” She picks up the spoon and digs in.
“Jhata was inside your mind.” Matt drops onto the tatami and picks up his bowl. “Did you learn anything about her? I need to know everything, even if you don’t think it’s important.”
Yarah’s cheeks are full of rice. “I don’t remember much.” Her eyes wander up to the ceiling. “I sealed off the part of my mind with my real thoughts and hid it from Jhata. Then I made a copy and filled it with thoughts from her. When I opened my mind to her, she came inside. To the center. It’s a place she calls the Core. Everybody has one, but it’s usually shut.”
“Did you get into her Core?”
Shaking her head back and forth, Yarah swallows with a grimace. “I saw where it was, but she won’t let anyone in.” Yarah looks up. “It’s too easy to kill someone if you get into their Core.”
Matt reaches for a pickled radish. “Did you see or hear anything while you were inside her mind?”
Yarah stops chewing. “She’s evil. Worse than Ryzaard. Much worse.” Her eyelids drop, as if she’s replaying what went on inside Jhata’s head. “She started killing when she was twelve and never stopped. Friends, enemies, cities, worlds. Even entire galaxies. For thousands of years.” The spoon in Yarah’s fingers starts to shake, spilling rice onto the tatami floor. “She hates everything and everyone. But there’s one person she hates the most.” Yarah opens her glistening eyes, looking up at Matt.
“And who is that?
“You.” Yarah puts her bowl on the floor and wipes her mouth with her sleeve. “Can we go for a walk on the beach?”
Matt just lost what was le
ft of his appetite.
He stands up. “We need to go after Jessica, but we can have a little walk first.” He starts moving across the room and to the door. Running to his side, Yarah slips her fingers into his hand, and they walk out into the night together.
The sand is warm underfoot, and a full moon hangs above the horizon, trailing a long shiny tail on the water. Matt moves in silence, the moist air on his skin, inhaling the sweet perfume of mango trees in the jungle running parallel to the beach. They sit down.
He breaks the silence.
“We won’t be able to stay here long,” Matt says. “Ryzaard knows about this place. He could show up at any time.”
Yarah pulls her knees up to her chest. “She’s afraid of you.”
“Who?”
“Jhata.”
“Why would she be afraid of me?”
Yarah scoops up a handful of sand. “I remember talking to her when she was inside my head. About you. She’s afraid of you. I felt it. She thinks you’ll become more powerful than her.” She lets the sand run through her fingers.
“What did she say to you?”
“That’s what I can’t remember.” Yarah gazes down, drawing in the sand.
A glass sphere bumps against her hand.
As her fingers touch it, the sphere lights up with a neon green color. Pulling back her hand, she suddenly raises her head up.
“What’s wrong?”
Yarah twists, looking over her shoulder.
Matt follows her eyes.
Ryzaard is standing behind them, his lips curled in a snarl.
CHAPTER 79
No one talks on the bridge.
The crew, Eva and Jessica listen to the short-wave radio relaying messages of death and devastation. One by one, the voices of the freedom camps under siege fall silent.
“What do we do?” The captain turns to Jessica, his eyes on the walrus tooth hanging from the silver chain on her neck. “We don’t have Aanak anymore. She made you the leader. Tell us what to do.”
Her muscles tighten. Fear is forcing its way into Jessica’s body.
“Relax.” Eva puts her hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Open your thoughts. Let everything flow in and out, freely, without restriction. You’ll know what to do.”
Jessica’s gaze drops. In her mind, she sees images of attack-helis dropping on scattered gatherings of tents. Combat troops pour out like black locusts, moving through freedom camps, shoulder cannons leveled and firing. Children flee while mothers and fathers kneel on the ground, pleading for mercy.
She knows there will be no mercy.
And that is the answer.
It’s time.
“Give the order,” Jessica says. “Abandon the freedom camps. Move into the cities. Blend in. Disappear. Spread apart. The time of the freedom camps is over.”
The bridge of the submarine is silent as the crew members struggle to comprehend the meaning of her words.
One of them speaks up. “What about the Abomination? It runs rampant in the cities.”
“Don’t fight it,” Jessica says. “And don’t embrace it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ignore it.”
CHAPTER 80
Yarah’s world was a good first stop.
Jhata stares at the smoking ruins of the castle. Not one stone left upon another. It’s cathartic to destroy it the old-fashioned way, with her bare hands, thinking of what she will do to Yarah the next time she finds her. Until then, making a waste of her world and everything on it is the best way to assuage her rage.
Of course Yarah isn’t hanging out on her own world waiting for Jhata to come. Jhata only came on the off-chance that she might find a clue leading to the little she-devil. Or to Matt. But all Jhata finds are castles, dragons and books about fairy godmothers.
She vows to destroy everything about Matt and Yarah, anything and anyone that might hold value for them.
The lush jungle that grows on the other side of the river is now a barren wasteland of charcoal and rocks. Jhata raked it with high energy plasma beams for so long that nothing remains but great open sores and slashes in the landscape exposing the bedrock below.
To her amazement, a gentle dragon was swimming in the river and soaring through the skies. Its purple blood and entrails now lie splashed across the rocks where the castle used to stand.
Everything alive has been destroyed, mountains leveled, rivers and seas vaporized, reduced to floating atoms in the atmosphere.
Now it’s time to wipe away the planet itself.
For Jhata, destroying a planet is an art, perfected over millennia. No expertise in geophysics or science is required. The power of the Stones alone is sufficient.
She learned everything she knows about planets by simple observation and experimentation. As a young woman, she once dissected an entire world with the cool detachment of a paleontologist exploring sedimentary layers for trilobites. Layer by layer, she peeled it like an orange while floating above it with a thin energy bubble between her and the cold grip of space. It didn’t matter in the least that it had cost the lives of 30 billion live inhabitants.
They were nothing more than lab rats.
Looking up from the planet’s surface, Jhata vanishes and reappears at a spot hundreds of miles above the blue-green world. Its round shape floats below her like a massive hydrangea blossom in the emptiness of space. She pulls two Stones from her belt, holding one in each hand as points of focus. Glowing neon pink, the Stones shoot out pencil-thin beams. She closes her eyes as power pulses through her body, pouring everything into her hands. One by one, the other Stones on her belt glow in resonance, each casting out its own thin line.
All the beams intertwine and twist together into a massive braid of pure energy. It moves to the planet and touches at a single point where the individual beams break apart like lines of longitude and spread out across the planet’s surface, setting off massive thermonuclear explosions at every point of contact. A blanket of fire melts the outside skin of the world and ignites the atmosphere. As the beams come together at a point on the opposite side, they turn and burrow through the core and back out to the surface on the other side, opening a large hole a thousand kilometers wide. The energy continues to flow in a circuit over the surface of the planet and back through the core.
The effect is startling.
At one end of the opening, the outside of the planet is sucked into the core. At the other end, boiling magma pours out, like the entrails of a fiery beast, flooding the surface.
The entire planet is liquefied and turned inside out.
Jhata channels her hatred of Yarah and Matt through the Stones and into the beams of energy, allowing the process to continue until she reaches a point of saturation where raw hatred becomes a bore.
She needs a distraction.
Withdrawing the beams of energy, Jhata stares at the churning ball of magma. With a Stone in each palm, dark lines shoot out of her fingers down into the planet, creating a massive gravitational field at the center. The planet shrinks to the size of an asteroid, growing darker in color.
Time for the grand finale.
The shrunken sphere explodes in a burst of light, instantly transforming the remains of the planetary material into gas and blasting it outward in a spherical shockwave. It shoots up to her like a white typhoon. She reaches her hands out and, enveloped in the protective energy skin, runs her fingers through it as it rips past, the lifeless remains of what had once been a little girl’s dreams. Turning, she watches it diffuse out into the blackness of space.
Thus ends Yarah’s world.
If Jhata can find Matt’s world, there will be a repeat performance.
And then Earth.
CHAPTER 81
Matt’s body tenses. He looks up at the green halo burning above his head.
Without thinking he ducks and jumps backwards, tumbling into the water and passing under the edge of green light just before it drops to the sand, enclosing Yarah in its g
rip.
Looking back at him, Matt sees Yarah close her eyes and try to jump away, but her Stone is useless and black in her hand.
“Move!” Matt shouts to Yarah.
She steps to the side.
Bending forward, Matt shoots purple darts from his Stone at the green globe.
But they break harmlessly against the sphere engulfing Yarah, turning into a purple gas that fills the air with the stench of burnt ozone.
Slamming his fist into his chest, Matt activates the skin armor. It flows over him, becoming one with his body. As an added measure, he lays a layer of blue energy over the armor. His body glows like a neon sign.
Taking a step forward, Ryzaard moves closer to Yarah. “You moved your world. Tried to hide it from me.” His eyes focus on Matt. “But you’re sloppy. Didn’t think about how easy it would be for me to drop a tracking device in the sand.” A small ball tumbles out of his open palm.
The hatred wells up in Matt’s chest.
Ryzaard grins. “You can take care of yourself, but what about her? She’s just a little girl. Do you want me to kill—”
Matt doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence. He jumps, vanishes and appears next to Ryzaard, raising his Stone like a dagger and bringing it down with mad rage onto the old man’s neck.
But a shield of green clings to Ryzaard before Matt can make full contact. His Stone barely penetrates the shield and scrapes against Ryzaard’s shoulder, cutting through his tweed jacket and leaving a gouge that fills with blood.
Ryzaard shoots a bubble of energy outward from his body. It lifts Matt off his feet and throws him into the water. Then Ryzaard puts his hand up to his shoulder and touches the wound, causing the skin to rapidly close on it.
He looks at Yarah. “How shall we kill you? So many ways.” He takes a silver disk out of his pocket. “Considering that I’m a gentleman, I’ll spare you a gruesome death. Just clean and simple.” He brushes his finger on the disk.
Yarah brings her hands up to her throat. Dropping to her knees, she turns and reaches out to Matt, opening her mouth and trying to speak.