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

by J. M. Rojas

CHAPTER 21: A FATHER'S PROMISE

  The stars suddenly extinguish in the sky and darkness consumed the beach. Thomas and Armak Tor'Kai disappeared, leaving the Lemurians and Jack standing in an empty void.

  A light suddenly appeared in the dark. Then another.

  Thomas' face appeared around the lights, which were his eyes. Then the rest of his body began to emerge from the void, which was fast fading. Colour bled into the emptiness, painting yet another memory in the Chamber of Sleep.

  His father stood at the edge of a white marble balcony; pot plants, tables and chairs strewed about as if Thomas had knocked them aside in a mad dash. Elegant, pillars shaped like beautiful women held a roof above the platform, and a vibrant, orange sunset squinted through the gaps in the balcony's railing, which he leaned over.

  Atlantis! Jack's mind raced, and he rushed over to the railing next to his father. He turned his head about in all angles, taking in what he hoped would be a the breathtaking view. Then his eager smile slipped away and was replaced with gaping look of horror.

  Below, the city was sinking.

  Great waves crashed upon the buildings, and hundreds of people—appearing like ants from his great height—were crushed and swept into a swirling vortex at the heart of the city. Like a drain in a bath, it dragged everything in; buildings, towers, statues, and great ships whose towering masts flew colourful flags of every nation of Lemuria. Merchant and war ships, all drawn down, one by one, into the dark depths of a hungry sea. And bit by bit, that sea rose gradually, up and up and up...

  Fire raged like a furnace in every window of every building, licking at the stones and devouring the wood and flesh of those within. The screaming and wailing of the dying could only be heard between the rhythmic crash of each wave. Between the pause of the wind's thunderous breath that whipped the sky in frenzy of flying debris.

  Thomas' gaze was shifted to something far above the rooftops of the city. A single, stationary spot in the air. When Jack squinted against the haze of the sun, he identified the spot to be a man. His arms waved above his head like he was a conductor of a symphony. It was as if he was directing the carnage and destruction below.

  “Ka'ash II,” Mathias said, drawing Jack's attention to the stoic general standing beside him like one of the pillars holding the balcony roof. “His last moments, before the utter destruction of the world.”

  The Rama Emperor suddenly arched his entire body as a gigantic bolt of lightening struck him from the heavens, lighting up the sky. It engulfed him and hit the whirling waters below, where it reflecting a blinding flash before vanishing. The turbulent waters seemed to suddenly be released from some invisible force, and stopped spinning. The cyclonic winds dissipated, harmlessly blowing against the last walls of the city.

  Thomas leaned even further over the rail, his eyes still plastered on the spot where Ka'ash II had been. Jack scanned the skies, but saw nothing but empty space; and fluttering, burning streamers of what he assumed was the emperor's garbs drifting on a little wind.

  Then he saw it. A wink of light, a reflection from the sun against gold and silver, descending like a stone from the sky. The Crown of Dreams.

  “Mathias look!”

  “I see it, Jack,” the general said, watching the memory unfold quietly by the teenager's side. “The Crown falls. The Rama Emperor was no match for its intense power.”

  “Where will it go—the sea?” Will said, suddenly stepping up to the rail also.

  “It might hit the—” Layla started, then gasped.

  “The Statue of Thae'il Amraethar.” Cloak finished.

  “By the Mir's wisdom!” Oreus added.

  They all saw the Crown of Dreams fall, and land—by fate or some guided will—upon the open out stretched left hand of a giant statue, which rose far above the last standing towers and buildings. The First Emperor of Lemuria had caught the great power of the Azlazarani.

  “Got it.” A voice broke everyone's awe at what they thought was luck.

  All eyes moved to Thomas, and then the truth was revealed. His eyes glowed white, and his hands were outstretched. He had guided it to its perch.

  Something seemed to break his concentration, and Thomas turned to look back the way he had come from across the balcony.

  “I am calling him to the Rising Hope,” Mathias said, nodding slowly, putting all the pieces together in his calculating head. “He will tell me to give him more time, that he will be there soon...”

  Thomas' face reflected just that. An urgent conversation with someone far away. Then he turned back and forced his will upon Thae'il's hand with his entire psychic strength. His eyes intensifying in brightness.

  There was a loud, resounding crack, and the open hand holding the crown suddenly jerked as Thomas' psychic grip strove to break it apart. Spiderwebbed cracks splintered around its wrist and at the joint of every finger. There was another shudder in the marble, and in one last grunt from the Atlantean, the fingers broke apart and collapsed in on themselves, closing over the Crown of Dreams. The wrist also snapped from the forearm, and the marble fist dropped into the ocean like a lead ball. A spray of water shot into the air as it sunk down beneath the dark tides that continued to rise. Turning one last time to look at the statue of the First Emperor of Lemuria, Thomas bowed low.

  “Farewell, First Lord of Lemuria, Great King of Atlantis. May you guard our city until we return.” He then ran away from the railing and dashed through an open doorway into the tower that supported the balcony they stood on.

  Jack watched his father leave. Excitement and sadness in his eyes. These memories were stirring up emotions he had thought he had reigned in. Then he said, “Why didn't dad take the Crown with him?”

  “He would not risk it,” Mathias answered. “Thomas must have feared it falling into one of our people's hands. Remember, those who were aboard the Rising Hope did not all turn out to be honourable people; Kaelan and the other rebels would have made a move to claim it.”

  Then the ground began to shake, and they all watched as the balcony began to slant and fall with the rest of the tower. The Lemurians and Jack stood suspended in space, and darkness whirled in again to consume Thomas' memory.

  When the light was visible again, it was a sun about to sink beneath the still surface of the sea. The sky was already dark and full of stars. There was no land to see in all directions.

  They all stood above the surface of the sea as if it was glass.

  A white motor yacht with the words “The Singing Siren” stencilled on its side lay in the breast of the gentle rocking waves. The deck windows were glowing yellow against the dark, and a silhouette of a man stood at the prow, hands on his hips.

  “Thomas is searching for something,” Mathias said to the others. “He took this boat to remote islands all around the world. He was the first of us to find Atlantis and its ruins...”

  There was a staggered pause in Mathias' voice. He had just discovered something.

  “What is it?” Jack asked.

  “If I am correct, this memory will show us the moment that your father... recovered the Crown of Dreams!”

  Everyone watched the scene unfold, their thoughts unspoken.

  The silhouette of Thomas suddenly raised his arms into the air and held that pose for a long time. A white light began to radiate from him like an aura, and the air was suddenly a-hum with psychic energy. Finally, a ripple broke the ocean's surface, followed by an upwards explosion. A column of water swirled up from the waves, spiralling many hundreds of feet into the air above the yacht. At the very top of the column, balancing and spinning on a plume of white froth was large shadowy bulk. When their eyes adjusted better to the dark, they noticed it was the marble fist of Thae'il.

  “He took the Crown, and did not tell us,” Mathias said. “I suspect it was to protect us. But I fail to see why he could not tell me. Never mind. Toram had already made his plans to destroy the Crown by order of the Mir.”

  “And by his own convictions,” Cloak said,
his voice a cold wind on Jack's neck.

  “Yes, his own convictions,” Mathias echoed the Nysaean. “It was perhaps fate that he fell in love with Eleanor and this world as well. The Change cannot be denied, the Mir are wise, but to be aligned like this, one cannot help but wonder how we are being guided.”

  Then the memory was gone. Back into the void.

  Mount Spire loomed out of a wall of morning mist, its rocks tearing through the wisps of grey like a ship's prow parting ocean waves. The Lemurians and Jack suddenly found themselves moving, or floating, towards the mountain they had escaped from two days ago. The memory moved them through the mountain wall—Jack shut his eyes, forgetting for a moment it was merely a projected illusion—and into a large cavern. The earthen roof was a-glow with gloam orbs suspended by the roots of trees, growing somewhere above their heads on the mountain top.

  “Dad's workshop!” Jack exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the familiar sheet-cloaked silhouettes in the cavern's gloom, and the tools scattered across the cold stone floor, collecting dust.

  A lone figure stood among the silent machinery and half repaired sky-ships. It was Thomas, and he was wearing oil-stained overalls and holding a wrench in one hand. Jack's father turned to the group and looked straight through them, his thoughts somewhere beyond the mountain wall. He then placed the wrench on a small trolly and wiped his brow.

  Kneeling on the stone floor, covered in a thick layer of dirt and oil, Thomas began picking at a spot on the ground with a bolt.

  “What is he doing?” Jack asked.

  “I believe we are about to find where he has kept the Crown of Dreams all these years,” Mathias answered.

  “It was right under our feet!” Layla exclaimed.

  “The most obvious of places,” Cloak added.

  Oreus remained wide-eyed and silent.

  Gradually, Thomas' bolt picked away enough of the sludge to reveal to the group what appeared to be a key hole. He then reached out to another spot on the ground further away, and began to trace the outline of a large circle around himself and the key hole. The circle was in fact a crack in the stone, and his bolt had removed a build up of grime that had concealed its visibility.

  The outline of a door! Jack thought.

  “This is where you will find the Crown of Dreams, Jack,” Thomas said, standing and looking right at him. “I have concealed the wretched thing in the floor of my workshop for the past few years. It is booby trapped and sealed against all invasive thoughts.”

  Jack knew his father wasn't talking directly to him; that this was a memory recorded in the past to be delivered to him now.

  “Thanks dad,” he whispered, smiling and nodding as if he was conversing with Thomas.

  “If you are seeing these memories Jack, then you know that I am either captured... or dead.”

  The brief joy evaporated, and Jack dropped his head down, hiding a sudden surge of sadness. He swallowed it down.

  “Whatever the outcome, I am truly sorry.”

  “No need,” Jack said, lifting his head and smiling ruefully.

  “I wish I could have completed this quest with you, and the others of course. Retrieved the Maker's Hand from Imnalain and bring it back here to my workshop. Ah, just to see Lemuria one last time. Well... Mathias, I am sure has been looking after you.”

  Mathias half bowed to the memory of the man. “It has been a long journey,” the general said softly.

  “Anyway... the key to this secret chamber... is right here.” Thomas reached into his overalls and withdrew a long, copper shank, with the jagged rays of a rising sun as the key's bit. It rested in grease-stained hands for a moment for all to see, before Thomas' fingers enveloped them. “I will keep it on me at all times. All times.”

  “Yes,” the general said as if he understood. A smile flit across his lips. “Of course.”

  Confused, Jack pulled at Mathias' arm for an answer; but the giant continued to watch the scene unfold.

  Thomas threaded the key with a small chain and clasped it around his neck.

  “It will remain here, for safety,” Thomas said. “And should I die, you will know where to find it.”

  “Old Valour Cemetery,” Mathias spoke aloud, so all could hear.

  “Jakar Aradas... Jack Grey, I promise, by my sweat and blood, by all the power I can muster, my very life, we will destroy this Crown of Deceit, and end the war. And you, Jarro and Aeolorna... James and Alora... Rowan, Emily and your mother will all live long and amazing lives under the guard of my people. You have my word. I love you son. Goodbye.”

  My true name? Jack thought. I am Jakar Aradas!

  Jack ran forward to embrace the image of his father, unashamed of the tears he wept. Before he could reach Thomas's smiling figure all went black.

  “I saw you go inside there, Desert Rat!” Rykar's voice roared through the timbre of the door. “Open up! Or I will smash my way in!”

  “I just want a moment alone,” a small, but defiant voice yelled back. It belonged to Ramose.

  “Don't lie to me!” Rykar beat the door again with his gauntleted fists. “You are sneaking around these halls searching for weaknesses. Gathering information! I don't care what my father says, you're a traitor!”

  In the cleaner's store room, the djinn leaned his shoulder against the door, which trembled with the aggressive blows of the Atlantean in the hall. He had braced the door with a mop between two gloam orb fixtures on either side of the door-frame, and wedged a chock of wood under the bottom rail for extra security; but knew that sooner or later, the raging man would break his way in.

  “What do you want from me, Rykar?” Ramose shouted over the loud banging. “I only want to sleep.”

  “In the broom closet?” the Atlantean cried incredulously. “You lie!”

  Ramose was about to unsling his Staff of Dancing Winds and wait for his adversary, when there was a sudden sound of a door creaking open in the hall, which ended Rykar's ruckus.

  “What are you doing, Rykar?” Will growled, rushing over to the man with his hands clenched in fists.

  Layla pushed her way passed the Hy-Bresailian and grabbed Rykar's shoulder, spinning him around to face her. “Leave the boy alone! He is probably scared out of his wits being alone in his quarters, where your men have taken the liberty of prowling about. Oreus has already—”

  “Deemed Ramose a guest!” Oreus' voice boomed through the tumult of outbursts and walked up to Rykar, with Mathias not far behind him. “Did I not make myself clear, son? The djinn is our guest. And that means you are to let him roam the halls wherever he wishes to go.”

  The door to the cleaner's room creaked open slowly, and a shadow slinked out into the light. Ramose stood defiantly next to Will, eyeballing Rykar with his Staff of Dancing Winds nimbly rolling around his wrists. There was no fear in his face.

  Grabbing the djinn's arm, Layla yanked him over to stand next to her.

  Rykar crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes moving from Ramose to Will, where they lingered threateningly. After a fuming moment of silence, he finally spoke. “I was curious is all. The rat—er, boy was following your group, father, then disappeared into that closet. I found it quite odd. It appeared he was stalking you—”

  “And why were you following us, then?” Mathias asked, his eyes piercing the darkness like deadly dagger tips. “Your father and I have had enough of your insolence, Rykar Isaleph. You are to return to your quarters immediately. We are about to strategise a war council for the quest tomorrow morning.”

  “Am I not welcome to this war council?” the hot-headed warrior asked, turning his unflinching gaze to Mathias. “I have led the Library soldiers since your departure, Aramathaeus. I think I should have a place at the table.”

  “No,” Oreus intervened. “It is only for those who have been chosen to go back in the Rising Hope. Your place is here. It is not that we don't trust you...”

  “I don't,” Will said, his jaw tense.

  Rykar glared at his
apparent rival, but said nothing.

  “The knowledge of the quest must be limited to a few,” Oreus continued. “Should any of our high ranking lords and generals be captured by the rebels, the less who know about it the better. That includes yourself, as well as your brother and sister. And Captain Acareth Illim of the City Watch, Kalaidan of the Taraal, Lord Thuruum'gar Omoreth of Hyperborrea, and—”

  “Old Snow Beard would die for you father! He was my right gauntlet in the recapture of Zerzura!”

  “I know, and his chair will be vacant at this war council, also. No compromises.”

  “Yet you let this rabble know all your secrets!” Rykar spat, his rage unsheathed. “Aramathaeus' loyal dogs, a half-breed child and that desert rat!”

  “Oh the injustice of it all,” Cloak mocked from the shadows of the hallway, his cold, raspy voice cutting through the argument like a shank in the back. His hooded visage sneered at Rykar. “Impetuous fool. Your father has made his decision, now back off.”

  Rykar made a deadly lunge at Cloak, but Mathias and Will caught him by each arm and flung him backwards. Mathias then kept moving forward, until he had Rykar up against the opposite wall. His forearm under his chin, holding his right hand above his head, while Will held his left.

  “Do not think I will not make any punishments against you, even in the face of your father.” His voice was low and harsh, through gritted teeth. “You have disgraced him, and you have disgraced me. I am still the general of Atlantis, and you will do as I say. Is that clear?”

  Rykar's eyes moved from Cloak's shadowed hood to the general who was twice his size and strength. Slowly, he nodded his submission. “Yes, Lord Sepharam.”

  Mathias uncoiled his fingers from around Rykar's wrist, dropped his forearm, and stepped back.

  Jack was shocked, but kept himself concealed behind Will.

  Layla held back a snicker. You haven't seen that side of Mathias, have you? Her voice popped in Jack's head.

  No, and I don't think I would like to see him like that again. Jack replied.

  “Shamed in front of your father—” Cloak hissed.

  “Erin, enough!” The general shouted, turning his scorching eyes at the Nysaean. “Your words have caused enough damage tonight.”

  “I will not be threatened by this fool,” Cloak rebuked, flinging a limp handed gesture at Rykar. “No one ever threatens me. Ever. Watch yourself, Son of Oreus. It will take a legion of men to stop me if I choose to finish this.”

  The Samatar glared at Rykar, then stalked away from the group down the hall, and into the darkness beyond.

  “Erin!” Will shouted after his companion. When Cloak didn't stop and look back, the blonde-haired man sighed and ran after him.

  Eight soldiers suddenly appeared out of the shadows. They wore sashes of dark purple with a black star, which showed their loyalty to Rykar. Their scowls and hands on their glaive handles were enough for Mathias to know what would happen if he attempted to humiliate Rykar again.

  “We are done here,” Mathias said to Oreus, then directed Jack, Layla and Ramose with a nod to follow Will.

  We will meet you in your study in an hour. Mathias' said to the High Librarian with his thoughts as he shadowed Jack and Layla.

  Oreus watched them leave, then turned to his son. “Rykar—”

  “Goodnight, father,” his son snarled as he stormed off in the opposite direction of the others, his men flanking him. “You have made your alliances! You can keep them!”

  Shaking his head, Oreus leaned against the wall. He sighed, then began to follow after Mathias.

  “This war will divide us, and surely drive us mad,” he said to the shadows.