[Lorien Legacies 03.0] The Rise of Nine

by Pittacus Lore

  The remaining helicopters spread apart in the sky and come at us from different angles. Pockets of sand explode all around us. One helicopter flies directly overhead, and I roll out of the way of its line of fire.

  I struggle to clear my mind. It isn’t easy, but I’m getting the hang of what it takes for me to go inside my head to communicate. I take a few deep breaths and quiet my mind. Number Ten? Where are you? We’re under attack.

  We can hear it, she says. We’re coming. Her thoughts are calm, with an edge of worry. It feels good just to hear it, though, to know others are on their way.

  I shift around and see two black helicopters bank left and head in the opposite direction, firing missile after missile at a new target. That has to be them! I can only redirect three of the rockets, but someone else deflects the rest.

  ‘Ten and the rest are almost here!’ I yell down to Nine through the driver’s window. Next thing I know the gun turret on the front hood has exploded, sending hot metal flying over my head. I roll off the roof of the car just as it’s split in half by a new hail of bullets.

  Nine jumps out of the car and grabs the two rifles I set in the sand by his door. ‘Looks like we’ve got a real fight on our hands. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.’

  The helicopters circle back and line up over the faraway vehicles, forming a united front. Nine lifts his palm and the lead black truck is suddenly ripped straight up in the air like a shuttle rocketing into outer space. Nine flips his hand and the car falls back down again. We can hear the men screaming from where we are. The car comes to a stop right before it hits the ground, then smashes down hard. We watch the men scramble out on shaky legs and look for somewhere to run. At the sound of the impact, Bernie Kosar, still in the form of a hawk, dives and lands behind the twisted car on the road, and transforms into a beast. The trailing vehicles swerve into the desert to avoid him, some spinning completely around. Bernie Kosar roars.

  Nine ducks into the backseat of the car and throws our Chests into the sand. Opening his, he pulls out the string of green stones and the silver staff, and as he jogs backwards towards the chaos, he yells, ‘You wait for the others. BK and I will be right back!’

  I shout back, ‘Don’t look like you’re having too much fun! And make sure you don’t blow up the entrance to the military base!’ A helicopter swings in from my right, and just as I yank on its nose with my mind, something rips into my left leg. I fall headfirst into the sand, blinded by pain. It feels all too familiar and I roll on the ground screaming at the top of my lungs. I know what this means. A scar is searing itself into my leg. Another member of the Garde is dead.

  Everything stops. The thought of another one of us dying sweeps through my body and I’m paralyzed by grief so deep it feels like I’m sinking into the sand. There is one less soldier to reclaim Lorien, one less soldier to fight to save Earth and every living thing on it. Two missiles slam into our car, blowing it to bits.

  Gunfire rains down on me and just in time my bracelet expands into a shield. I take some solace in the fact that my Inheritance is in tune with the dangers that face me – although I don’t know why it didn’t protect me from the first onslaught of gunfire. The bullets are hitting close and constant. When I finally manage to examine the new scar wrapped around my ankle, I’m shocked to see two gaping bullet wounds instead. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy to be wounded and bleeding. I’m so relieved that it’s not another scar that I don’t even care that my hands are covered in blood. As I apply pressure to stop the bleeding, the desert goes strangely silent. My bracelet retracts.

  I manage to flip myself over and look up. Standing over me are three teenagers. The boy is tall and tan with curly black hair, and the two girls hold Loric Chests. I recognize the boy immediately from my visions. He nods and smiles, saying, ‘Nice to see you again, Number Four. I’m Eight.’ Before I can respond, he disappears.

  One of the girls is short with auburn hair and tiny features. She looks no older than twelve, and I know this must be Number Ten, the Garde from the second ship. She drops the Chest and kneels by my side. The other Garde, a tall girl with shoulder-length brown hair, sets her Chest down and, without saying a word, kneels beside me as well and lays both her hands on my wounds. An iciness rushes over me and my body convulses on the desert floor. Just when I think I am about to pass out from the pain, it’s gone. I look at my ankle and see my wounds are completely healed. It’s amazing. The girl stands, offers me her hand, and pulls me to my feet.

  ‘That’s one hell of a Legacy you’ve got there,’ I manage to say.

  ‘John Smith.’ She’s staring at me and looks kind of starstruck. ‘After all this time, I can’t believe you’re standing here in front of me.’

  I’m about to respond, but over her shoulder I catch sight of a missile screaming towards us. I shove the girls to the ground, falling on top of them, and a dune behind us erupts like a volcano, sending a sand cloud high over our heads. When it dissipates Eight reappears next to us.

  ‘Everything good here? Everyone ready to fight?’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, we’re good,’ the taller girl says, nodding towards my leg. Ten had said she was with Seven and Eight, so this must be Number Seven. Before I can introduce myself properly, Eight disappears for the second time.

  ‘He can teleport,’ says Number Ten, smiling at my look of wonder. I can hardly believe that so many of us are finally together. I smile back at her.

  In the distance, I can see Eight again, fighting alongside Nine and Bernie Kosar. They wreak havoc on each approaching vehicle; flipping and disabling heavy military equipment like cheap plastic toys. Nine’s glowing red staff slices open the underside of a low-flying helicopter. Eight teleports next to a black Humvee and flips it over with his hands. Two helicopters swing low and collide into a fireball.

  A new sense of urgency comes over me to get to Six as fast as I can. ‘So I’m guessing you’re Seven and Ten; what can you do?’ I say as I find our rifles in the sand and hand them each a gun.

  ‘You can call me Marina,’ the girl with the brown hair says. ‘And I can breathe under water and see in the dark and heal the wounded. And I have telekinesis.’

  Call me Ella, I hear Ten’s voice say in my head. Aside from my telepathy, I can change ages.

  ‘Awesome. I’m Four, that nut job with the long black hair is Nine, and the beast is my Chimæra, Bernie Kosar.’

  ‘You have a Chimæra?’ Ella asks.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him,’ I say. What’s left of the brigade finally separates, and a dozen vehicles bounce off the road and race towards the three of us. A small plume of smoke escapes from the top of one of the vehicles, and I turn the rocket it just fired around with my mind, slamming it into a sand dune. The other trucks and SUV s keep speeding ahead.

  I start picking up pieces from Nine’s destroyed car and whipping them towards the oncoming brigade. I launch tires, doors, even a mangled seat at them. Marina does the same, and we’re able to stop three or four vehicles from advancing. Still, there are a half dozen or more to deal with.

  Suddenly Eight, Nine and BK pop up in front of us. Eight lets go of Nine’s hand and reaches forward to shake mine. ‘Number Four.’

  ‘You have no idea how happy we are that you guys are here,’ I say.

  Nine shakes Ten’s and Seven’s hands, and says, ‘Hello, ladies. I’m Number Nine.’

  ‘Hi,’ Ten says. ‘You can call me Ella.’

  ‘I’m Number Seven, but I go by Marina,’ she offers.

  I wish there was time to talk to these people I’ve waited so long to find, to hear their stories, to know where they’ve been hiding, to know their Legacies, and what’s in their Chests. But there are more helicopters on the way.

  ‘We can’t stay here and defend this same piece of desert forever,’ I say. ‘We have to get to Six!’

  ‘Let’s take out these bad boys,’ Nine says, pointing to the oncoming cloud. ‘And then we can find Six and
get on with it.’

  We all turn to watch the approach. Several new helicopters now dot the sky. I look over at my fellow Garde, and each one looks ready to fight. We’ve never had so many of us together. Never before have things looked so possible. After all this, we’re never splitting up again.

  ‘They’ll just keep coming,’ I say. ‘We should just go get Six.’

  ‘Okay, Johnny. The tunnel is that way,’ Nine says, pointing behind us. ‘I’ll take up the rear and deal with anything that needs handling. You know, snap a few necks, shake things up a bit.’

  Those of us with Chests pick them up. I take the lead, heading in the direction Nine pointed. I scan for traps and move everyone towards the five-pronged cactus. Seven and Eight are on my heels, with Ten close behind them. There is a steady stream of gunfire behind us as Nine does his thing. He sounds like he’s having a party with himself back there, hooting and hollering. Only he would consider this fun.

  We pick up the pace and don’t stop running until we get to the cactus. Nine gleefully fires shot after shot while Eight and I try to deal with the prickly plant, the only thing that stands between us and where Six is being held. The map showed that the tunnel is right where the cactus stands. Finally, we manage to blow it to pieces using our telekinesis. Beneath it is a thick brown door with a metal handle in the middle of it. As I stand there looking at the entrance to the tunnel, the other Garde by my side, I remember what Nine said earlier: ‘I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.’ We’ve all been waiting for this – waiting for the moment when we’d find each other, when the nine of us would rise up and defend the legacy of Lorien against the Mogadorians. As it turned out, all nine of us didn’t make it, but I know that the six of us who are left, as well as the addition of Number Ten, will do whatever it takes to survive what’s to come.

  28.

  An enormous Mog charges at me, gleaming sword swinging. I duck under the blade and connect my fist with his throat. He drops his weapon, gasping for air. No sooner has the metal clanged to the ground than I pick it up and behead him. A cloud of his ash engulfs me as three more charge. The ash hides me. I crouch low, slicing Mog legs off at the knees as soon as they approach. When I stand, another massive Mog tries to get me from behind. I backflip over him, driving my sword through his midsection as I land. I step through his cloud of ash to find myself surrounded by a dozen more. I don’t see Setrákus Ra.

  I turn invisible. After ripping through another round of Mogs, I look again for Setrákus Ra. I see him at the far end of the room and don’t hesitate. I run straight at him. More Mogs appear; I lose count of how many. I leave them all a pile of dust. When I’m within thirty feet of Setrákus Ra, he raises a fist and points it at me, almost as if he can see me. Blue electricity shoots from his hand and crackles along the ceiling of the room and I feel myself turn visible. Once again, he’s taken away my Legacies. I knew this could happen, but I feel a pang of loss anyway. Still, I’m ready for whatever he has for me.

  Soldier Mogs come at me from all sides, but I just keep moving towards Setrákus Ra. When a Mog steps into my path, I rip my sword through his neck. Another grabs me from behind and I cut off his arm. Another comes screaming towards me and I shove my sword through his midsection. At this point, I’m so focused on where I will ram my blade through Setrákus Ra’s neck that I barely notice killing off the Mogs.

  The next thing I know, he’s right next to me and he grabs my neck. He raises me up with one hand until my feet are dangling off the ground and once again our faces are only inches apart.

  ‘You fight well, little girl,’ he breathes into my face. I wince from the stench.

  ‘Give me my Legacies back and you’ll see how well.’ My voice is strangled.

  ‘If you were as strong as you think you are, I wouldn’t be able to take them away in the first place.’

  ‘Don’t give me that, you coward! If you’re so sure you can take me, why don’t you do it? Show me how big and tough you are. Give me back my Legacies and fight like a man!’ I shout.

  His voice echoes as he bellows, ‘You use your powers, and I’ll use mine!’

  He tosses me back into the middle of the room, but I barely notice the pain of the impact when I hit the floor. My sword clangs to the ground and skitters away. A soldier sends his sword spinning at me at high speed. My first instinct is to try to stop it with my mind, but my Legacies are still gone. Even so, my strength and reflexes are with me, full force. I am going to kill Setrákus Ra, with or without my powers. I reach out with both hands and slap them over the oncoming blade, trapping it inches from my chin. The next second I’m tackled around the waist and, as I fall onto my back, I rotate the sword between my palms and sink it into the attacking Mog. I’m covered in a blanket of ash as I hit the ground. More Mogs come. I’m destroying them with their weapons, and the justice of that is awesome. I feel stronger with every one I reduce to nothing. I’m also more pissed off. If I have to go through every Mog on Earth to get to Setrákus Ra, I’ll do it.

  Setrákus Ra is just standing there, watching the show. He roars so loud I can feel the vibrations in my chest. My years of training were all leading up to this moment. The only way I could feel stronger is if the rest of the Garde were here; we should be fighting him together. I shake off the thought. I will take him out for all of us.

  After I finish off the last soldier, Setrákus Ra moves into the middle of the room to where I stand. He reaches behind his back and produces a massive double-headed whip that he snaps against the ground. It lights up with orange flames.

  I don’t even flinch. There is nothing he can do to scare or stop me now. I race forward, yelling, ‘For Lorien!’

  He flicks the whip over my head, sending a thick blanket of flames over me. I dive under its edge and roll in the direction of his feet. As I dodge his stomping boot, I see several scars branded around his ankles. I register them but don’t have time to think if there’s a connection between his scars and mine. My sword slashes his calf just above the highest scar on his left leg and then I spring to my feet. The mark I made immediately hardens and fades to another scar. He is completely unaffected by the wound, he doesn’t even limp a single step.

  He snaps the whip at me again and I try to cut off one of its two tails but when the flames touch my sword, the blade melts. I throw the remains of the sword at him. He raises his hand and halts the weapon in midair. It twirls and glows and as he stretches open his fingers, the melted blade climbs back above the handle, reforming into a gleaming sword again. He smiles and lets it fall to the ground.

  I dive for the sword, but when I reach down to grab it, his whip snaps across the top of my right hand. My skin boils and opens and, instead of blood, a hard black substance appears in the gash. I look at it and know I should feel unbelievable pain, but I’m numb. I stagger forward and finally get hold of the sword. Weapon in hand, I circle back around to face the Mog leader. But something is terribly wrong with my right hand now. It won’t move.

  Setrákus Ra cracks his whip again and I jump out of the way as it flies past me, leaving a trail of flames in its wake. When he raises his arm to pull the whip back over his shoulder again, I see an opening and take it. Gripping the sword in my left hand, I rush at him and plunge it deep into his ribcage. I yank it downwards, ripping his waxy skin apart until the sword is lodged at the bottom of his torso. I fall backwards, looking up at him and desperately hoping I’ve delivered the final blow, that I’ve ended the war.

  No such luck. Though Setrákus Ra grimaces for the first time, instead of turning into a pile of ash he just reaches down and pulls the sword out of his body. He examines the blade, watching his thick black blood dripping off of it. Then he puts the blade in his mouth and bites down on it, breaking it in half, and lets it drop to the ground. It’s like he’s playing with me. What’s going on? I rise to my feet, calculating quickly what my next move should be. Step one is avoiding Setrákus Ra long enough to figure it out. I wish, more than ever, that my Garde w
as standing with me.

  Ella? Can you hear me?

  Nothing.

  I continue to back away from Setrákus Ra, trying to put more distance between us to give myself a fighting chance. That’s when I notice my right hand is starting to tingle. I look down and see the skin around the whip’s wound has turned black. As I watch, the discoloration spreads to my knuckles and fingernails; in a matter of seconds my entire right hand is black up to my wrist. The tingling sensation vanishes. My hand feels incredibly heavy. Like it’s turned to lead.

  I look up at Setrákus Ra. The purple scar on his neck begins to pulse with a bright light. ‘Are you ready to die?’ he asks me.

  Ella? If you’re coming, now is the time. In fact, it’s now or never.

  I want so much to hear her voice in my head, telling me that she and the others are just outside the door. We should be together, fighting Setrákus Ra with our Legacies, the gifts the Elders bestowed upon us, until there is nothing left to him but the worthless, powerless, pile of ashes all of the other Mogs have become. Instead, I’m here alone, my hand injured and useless, playing cat and mouse with Setrákus Ra. And he’s just standing here in front of me, fire whip in hand, having rendered my Legacies useless, toying with me. What is going on?

  I take one more look around at the desert, then reach for the wheel on the brown door and give it a spin. After one rotation, I decide to speed things up and just yank it off its hinges. A steel ladder goes down into a black hole.