Dark Tide Rising (Book 1 of The Bright Eyes Trilogy)

by J. M. Rojas

CHAPTER 4: A MYSTERIOUS MEETING

  Atlantis. Jack contemplated to himself as he strolled along the lonesome stretch of Kingfisher Street, which buttressed Merchant Park. The night was warm; and its heavy darkness was pierced by a starry sky, and an evenly spaced column of street lights that stood tall like silent sentinels, keeping watch against unseen enemies. What does that ancient city have to do with my father? And how does he know so much about its history? It sounded like he had lived there or something. Impossible! That would have been so long ago. But... those images were so vivid, so real, so—

  A sudden rustling in a nearby hedge garden—that marked Merchant Park's boundary—drew Jack's attention from his conflicted thoughts. He paused, and turned his head in the direction of the sound. Nothing. The stillness of the night was deafening.

  Shrugging, Jack kept walking. Its not like anyone could have lived that long anyway. Or could they? And who is Aramathaeus? Another Atlantean like dad? Jack realised he couldn't completely rule out the impossible; his abilities of reading minds, talking with thoughts, and levitating objects would seem just as equally bizarre and inconceivable to any ordinary person. No, as much as his logic struggled to accept it, he had to keep an open mind. He had to decipher the messages and images, and not have preconceived judgments. Perhaps some research was also in order. Jack enjoyed research. Reading and uncovering mysteries always fascinated him. And so did ancient—and in this case alien—architecture; his favorites being the egyptian pyramids and stone henge. Perhaps there was something that someone had written about the presumed location of Atlantis, and about why it had sunk, which could help him. Something about this Crown of Dreams written in a tome of forgotten lore. This device that could destroy the world...

  Jack let that thought drift away as passing car lights broke his concentration. There was a blaring horn accompanied by wild jeering from the car's occupants, then silence again as the revellers were swallowed into the night behind him. Jack kept his head down and continued his plodding pace.

  Another thing that had been nagging at him: why was he having these dreams? What was triggering them? They appeared to be pre-recorded messages from his father that had been buried deep within his subconsciousness, and now for some mysterious reason they were surfacing at seemingly random times.

  Caleb had said it was something to do with Jack's obsession with his history assignment—an culmination of all the books he had read, finally seeping into and manipulating his dreams. Making him mad. Caleb couldn't and wouldn't believe them as messages from beyond the grave. That was all supernatural mumbo jumbo to the teenager who was—regardless of his wild spirit—a grounded, logical thinker. Caleb would need to see a miracle up close and personal before he would finally agree to its fallibility.

  Jack had never told Caleb of his and his siblings' powers. It was one of his biggest secrets that even his best friend was not privy too. It wasn't that Jack didn't trust Caleb; he simply felt that if he told him it would somehow destroy their long-standing friendship. It would scare him away, or somehow—like his mother—put him in danger.

  There were times he wanted to tell Caleb. Like the time he prevented the impetuous friend from falling off of his top bunk bed one night when they were having a sleep over. Caleb had tumbled off the bed when he was play-wrestling with Jack. He had always been the strongest one of the two; but this one time Jack had somehow got the upper hand. It was an accident. Before Caleb hit the wooden floorboards below, Jack managed to slow his friend's impact with his mind, and drop him lightly upon a rug. Jack's reasoning was that Caleb was a bit disorientated from a mock sleeper-hold he had given him earlier. Caleb nodded in acceptance, but Jack knew he didn't truly believe it.

  Also, on more than one occasion Jack had answered questions Caleb was about to ask. This had left a strange vibe between them when it happened. Jack would try to smooth it over later by saying it was because they knew each other so well, and he was merely preempting what he felt Caleb would naturally say or ask. This too was accepted without questions. But Jack could read his friend's thoughts and could hear the unsaid doubts in his mind. Luckily for Jack, Caleb easily forgot—or appeared to forget—these incidents due to his flippant nature.

  “If only I could tell someone,” he found himself saying out loud.

  You know you can't do that. An unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke in his mind. You would risk everything, including the people you love.

  Jack froze, his fear seizing him like a giant fist. Who said that? He replied telepathically, slowly turning back to the hedge row.

  The street light he stood under illuminated only a small diameter of space around him, separating him from the patchwork of shadows that silhouetted the park beyond. He was blind to the speaker whose voice appeared to come from all directions. Who is it?

  My name is Mathias Cane. The voice in his head was male and much older than him. Do not fear me, Jack. I am not here to harm you in anyway. Quite the opposite actually.

  Jack closed and re-opened his eyes; the white light glimmering forth excitedly. He felt the swell of psychic power well up inside of him, as if Mathias' very presence was setting it off. Both their energies feeding off each other. Melding together in a dance of to-and-fro and back-and-forth. A familiar connection.

  A tall man suddenly stepped out of the shadows and stood in the street light's radiance. In the harsh overhead lighting he look menacing. He was bald with a sharp black and white peppered beard lining a hard jaw. However his strongest and unnerving feature was a long scar that connected his left cheek to the tip of his chin. It looked like a battle-scar that had almost killed him in some old fight. The face from my dream! his thoughts raced. As the shadows peeled back against the light, Jack noticed that Mathias was also well built; his muscular form barely restrained by a simple black tee shirt; old, tattered jeans; and a worn, high-collared combat jacket. He looked very much like an army general trying to look like a civilian. His eyes were also glowing white like Jack's; but beneath the aura the teenager could see storm-grey pupils that were silently fierce, yet melancholy. Two emotional facets contradicting each other behind a mysterious exterior of intimidating stature.

  Mathias attempted to smile.

  “Hello, Jack Grey,” the bald man spoke in a deep voice, and held out a hand in welcome. “I knew your father, Thomas.”

  Jack's heart leap at the mention of his father, and his fear dissipated. Remembering that his father said he could trust this man, he stepped forward and reached to shake the giant's hand. It was strong; but there was no malice in its grip.

  “I-I saw you in a dream” Jack said, his white glowing eyes searching Mathias' mind. However his intrusion was blocked. There was a wall before his thoughts like a cliff standing firm against the oncoming waves of the sea. “How do you know my father?”

  “We fought in a war together,” Mathias replied with a stoic expression that did not give away any of his emotions. “A long time ago, before your time. Before any of this.” The last comment was followed with a wave of both his hands, as if indicating everything around him. It was very strange, and very enigmatic. “Now, you tell me something, Jack. Do you find you can no longer dream at night without hearing your father?”

  Emotions were starting to stir wildly within him, but Jack simply nodded.

  “You are not going mad,” the bald man replied, “You are seeing what is called a memory-message. It was implanted in your mind when you were only a baby. Your father knew this time would come, so he wanted you to be prepared. Wanted you to know the truth.”

  “What truth?” Jack asked almost demanding.

  Mathias did not answer at first. Then after a moment of glancing about as if looking for someone amongst the trees and street lights, he turned and started to walk back towards the park. “Come with me,” he said over his shoulder. “Let us talk, away from prying eyes.”

  Jack swallowed down his apprehension, then stepped out of the street light's radiance and into the embracing arms of the night. />
  Mathias guided the teenager to two hedges that met at the base of a large oak tree. Sidling around it's girth, they stepped out onto an open lawn beneath a leafy canopy, which was punctured by streams of moonlight. Their glowing eyes that gave them their strong night-vision appeared like will-o'-the-wisps in the dark; ghostly spirit-lights from beyond the mortal realm.

  “The truth of who you really are,” Mathias said, turning to face the teenager. “And why who you are has currently put you and your family in danger. There are people looking for you, Jack. People with not so pleasant intentions.” He stood towering over Jack like one of the oak trees; tall, ancient and imposing. His stern face revealed only by the spill of the light from his eyes.

  “What do they want from me?” Jack asked in a voice that was mixed with fear and anger. The yearning to know who he was and why he was different from everybody else was suddenly drowned out by his protectiveness for his family. “I am no one. Nothing. I don't pose a threat to anyone. Just ask my friend Caleb—”

  “You are very important, Jack,” Mathias said, ignoring the teenagerʼs self-depreciation. “You and your siblings are the children of a great man. I was sent—as one of your father's last wishes—to protect you and reveal to you the truth of your powers. How to hone them, how to use them to the best of your ability to protect the ones you love. You have a greater destiny than the life you currently live.”

  “My destiny is to look after my family,” Jack suddenly replied defensively. Years of silent resilience finally breaking down like the overflown wall of a dam. “My father didn't seem to take that into consideration when he was planning out my destiny, did he? Didn't consider that I would have to replace him one day and look after my brother and sister. To look after mum. She has suffered the most out of all of us.” The comments were biting, and the teenager did not flinch when saying them. “How come he never visited her in her dreams? Never comforted her?”

  “I apologise,” Mathias replied, his storm-grey pupils solidifying through the white light. The sadness in them was only fleeting. “I did not mean to trivialise your family. And I cannot tell you what messages Thomas left for Eleanor. He cared for her very deeply. And his untimely death—”

  Jack turned his back on the bald man, hiding his anger and despair.

  “I knew Eleanor too,” Mathias continued. “She was a good friend. That is why it pains me to keep such secrets from her. If she knew what I am about to tell you she would think I was insane. She would never let you go. And it would put her life at risk.”

  Shoulders slumped, Jack released a soft sigh into the still night. His world seem to be spinning out of control again, and this time he could barely keep it from toppling over.

  “There is no shame in your anger. Your convictions.” Mathias' voice was like a distant storm, coming from all sides.

  Jack slowly turned back to face him. “Who are you? I mean, my father told me in a dream, your name is so vague it feels like it was years ago, that part anyway.”

  “I am a soldier of Atlantis, and my True Name is Aramathaeus Sepharam. I am the last of the Gaianar, and I have come from the past. A past far removed from the history books you have read. You have powers, Jack. Powers from a race of men and women who died out thousands and thousands of years ago. Destroyed by a great catastrophe we call the Fall, which you call the Great Flood, and other things besides. I, and many others, are all that are left in this present time, and you and your siblings are the children of one. Thomas Grey you knew him as. However, his true name is Toram Aradas, High Captain of Atlantis. His birth land is a place you call the Isle of Avalon in myths and legends. It is one of ten lands that form the great Empire of Lemuria. The others being: the Isle of Atlantis, Thule, Nysa, Argadnel, Hyperborea, Aeaea, Vlaenderen, Hy-Bresail, and Argyre. This collection of nations were at constant internal war with each other for dominance of the High Thrown; as well as with the Osirian Empire and the Rama Empire to the east. All real places, whose historical existence has been fragmented by the great stretch of time, and filtered down into various fairy tales and adopted by different cultures. They are the lost kingdoms of a bygone era. And I am an emissary from them.”

  Jack was lost in thought of the imagery Mathias' words had conjured up. Places he had only read about in mythology, pseudo-history and science fiction books. Myths and legends was what his giant companion had said, and the teenager couldn't help but agree.

  “I am having a hard time believing all of this,” Jack finally said. “I mean, I decided to keep an open mind, and to accept all possibilities. Like, perhaps my siblings and I were some government experiments. But time travel? Advanced civilisations that existed before recorded history? It all seems impossible.”

  “Impossible to believe; but true nonetheless,” the other replied with firm reasoning in his voice. His eyes held a conviction that did not reflect the doubt in Jack's own eyes. “Think of the dreams of Atlantis your father left you with. They are real. A 'snapshot' if you will of a great city that once was the envy of the world. Now buried deep under the ocean. Hopefully never to be found again in this modern age.”

  Jack's curiosity gradually tore away at his skepticism. “Why do you say that?”

  “There are some secrets that are better left buried,” Mathias said grimly. “And it is one of these secrets that your father hoped would be kept by all of us. Those who survived the Fall. Those who used the Rising Hope—a time traveling machine—to travel to this modern age. A secret about the Crown of Dreams that doomed my people.”

  Jack's eyes flickered in recognition of the Crown.

  Mathias continued without hesitation, using Jack's charge of finding the Crown that Thomas had bound to the teenager as a leverage to understanding his plea. “Now dark forces are rising to find this device. They have only vain ambitions and ill intent for its use. If they find it, the world you know will be at the brink of utter destruction. The past revisited by fate's tempted hand. You are the key to preventing this from happening, Jack. Your father before you tried to stop it once and failed. But his son has given us another chance. So, I am beseeching your help, if you will give it.”

  Jack closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the night air, which had suddenly been stirred up by a cool wind. The memory of Atlantis flashed before him. Its far-reaching shores, its lofty towers...

  You must find it my son. Find it and destroy it before it is too late...

  He opened his eyes and exhaled. The images blew away with his breath into the darkness of the park.

  “Tell me everything,” he said, his fear gone and his thoughts clear.

  Mathias smiled and said, “I think before I continue I should introduce you to some colleagues of mine.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “Although I can fight my own battles,” Mathias said with stoic confidence, “I did not come alone. I have brought along some young Atlantean soldiers who I trust with my life. I hope you will one day learn to as well.”

  “A touching sentiment,” a cold voice suddenly cut through the night breeze like a knife. Jack looked passed Mathias' left shoulder in the direction of the speaker, his white-lit eyes discerning a hooded silhouette stepping out from behind a tree. “Notice how he didn't use the word 'friends'. I suppose it could be said that old Mathias here has learned to tolerate us the most out of the other survivors.”

  “This outspoken young man is Erin,” Mathias said, breaking his grasp on Jack's shoulder to point at the approaching figure behind him. “He is of Nysaean heritage, and what you would call an assassin, or Samatar in Lemurian. His True Name is Erinaeus Vith'Daethar.”

  “The Samatar are quick and deadly,” the pale-faced man grinned darkly at Jack as he stepped into a shaft of moonlight that illuminated him. His eyes were still covered by his leather Jacket's hood, but his teeth were glistening white like pearls. “Masters of intelligence, reconnaissance, espionage, sabotage... never to be trifled with.” There was an unsubtle warning in his last comment that was aimed at
the teenager. “But, a friend to my friends, of course.”

  Erin finally pulled back his hood, revealing straight, black hair and black eyes as deep and fathomless as the night. His features were sharp like broken glass and his skin as pale as porcelain. He looked to be in his early twenties and as ruthless as his words.

  Jack shivered and took a step back as the dark, fast-moving eyes of the newcomer bore deep into his, making him feel uncomfortable. They were intelligent and calculating; and under their gaze he felt as if all his secrets were suddenly revealed, all his truths laid bare. Jack dreaded the thought of attempting to read this one's mind, and suspected there were darker secrets there that were buried far deeper than his own.

  A hand snaked out of Erin's Jacket pocket faster than Jack could blink and extended to the intimidated teenager, who fearfully took it, half expecting to lose his own to a concealed blade. When their fingers clasped, Jack felt the other's cold, clammy skin tighten like a vice, revealing an unexpected strength from the skinny man.

  “You can call me Cloak.” The assassin's voice was almost a whisper lost in the wind. “We'll see how long you last. We'll see if you are as tough as your old man.”

  “That's enough, Erin,” Mathias said in his deep, commanding voice. “We don't want to scare the lad.”

  “Fear is a good way of weeding out the boys from the men, I always say,” Cloak laughed darkly, and walked over to stand on Mathias' right side.

  “Nysaeans?” Jack finally managed to speak, watching the assassin glide quietly across the lawn. He then turned to Mathias inquisitively. “From Nysa? One of nations of Lemuria, right?”

  “The boy is a bit slow,” Cloak said in a matter-of-fact, pulling his hood back on. “Are you sure he is the one?”

  Jack frowned at the being called ʻthe boy.ʼ He was a young man, undoubtably.

  Mathias threw a threatening glance at the assassin, which silenced him. He looked back at Jack and nodded. “Yes. He is from that land. It is a dark and foreboding place that took hundreds of years—and violent wars—to unite with the rest of the Lemurian Empire. A cruel and unforgiving land that is always raining. And the people are a savage and ruthless race—”

  “I resent all of that,” Cloak dared to interrupt.

  “—But once you have proven yourself in combat along side one, and shown blood-binding friendship, then they remain loyal and committed.”

  Cloak kept his head downcast, hiding any facial reactions to Mathias' words.

  “Just be warned,” the giant said with a slight smile. “They disdain charity.”

  “I've lived this long without it, haven't I?” Cloak hissed.

  “That is debatable,” Mathias laughed softly.

  There was a sudden rustling of leaves and cracking of branches behind Jack, and the teenager spun around to find two shadows moving through the hedges towards him. His night-vision could pick out scant details of a girl and man, but nothing more. Not knowing what to expect, he moved closer to Mathias.

  “Sorry we're late,” a girl's voice came from the smaller of the shadows. “Will and I were backtracking Kingfisher Street to make sure Jack wasn't being followed.”

  When they were close enough, Jack's vision revealed a brown-haired girl with bright green eyes, who looked no older than him; and a blonde-haired man who looked a little older than Cloak. The young man was smiling, and his blue eyes were glistening like precious stones. He was strong and handsome, and Jack wondered instantly if there was something between him and the girl.

  “Hello Cloak!” the man Jack assumed was Will called to the brooding Nysaean with a friendly wave. “Missed me?”

  “Do you want an honest answer that might hurt your feelings?”

  Ignoring Cloak's sardonic remark, the newcomer strode up to Jack, while the girl stood back watching the teenager curiously, and said, “I am Will! My True Name is Wilath Khaa'telion; but Will is fine. I suppose your custom is to shake hands...”

  Jack shook Will's strong hand and noticed a strange shaped, silver bracelet divided by an eagle's head, encircling his thick, tanned wrist. Jack looked up and reflected his infectious smile. “Hello, Will. I'm Jack Grey, as you probably already know.”

  Before Will could respond, the girl quickly approached, and gently pushed him aside, reaching out her own hand. “I am Laela Athesphar—but Layla is fine by me. I believe you spell my Modern Name with a y.” Her voice was intense, and her green eyes shimmered a soft-white like Jack's. “I've been watching you all day. A tiring job really. Did you know that you snore during your lectures. Not a good habit. Also, picking at your thumbs only gives you callouses. To stress less, eat some fruit.”

  “W-what?” Jack was flabbergasted. Had this girl been watching him all day? Heard everything he said, every little thought he'd thought?

  Yep. She said to him telepathically.

  Jack stopped thinking, and reached forward and grabbed Layla's hand. It was soft and warm. Her green eyes hypnotic and welcoming. Her subtle smile friendly and genuine. She appeared to be an open book; the complete opposite of Mathias and Cloak. What you saw is what you got. A girl who didn't like playing games. Someone who was easy to get a long with, but took her work seriously. His assumptions; but he was always good at reading first impressions. Jack felt already that he was going to like her. A lot.

  Have I passed your test? She said to him. Am I up to the standards of Thomas' son? I hope so. Otherwise this trip is going to be a long one.

  She winked.

  Jack laughed.