by Wendy Owens
“What? We’ve been going out of our minds and you were taking a nap?” Uri cried.
“She did the right thing. Had she transported in her condition she would have jeopardized everyone here,” Michael congratulated.
“Thank you, sir,” Sophie smiled before pulling the book they had been seeking from her waistband. She walked up to Gabe and placed it in his hands, “Sorry it’s so filthy.”
Gabe didn’t think; he only reacted. He reached out and embraced Sophie. Pulling away he looked at her, his eyes moist, “I thought you were dead. I actually thought I left you to die.”
“I’m fine,” she said nodding. His concern some how brought a peace over her. Sophie looked to Rachel, a half smile on her face. “Now let’s see what this book has to say.
Gabe turned and handed the book to his wife. “You read it, Rachel.”
Rachel’s delicate fingers thumbed through the pages of the book. Her eyes quickly skimmed the content.
“Well?” Uri asked impatiently.
“She’s looking you big oaf, give her a second,” Dina scolded.
“Wait ... here, right here. It talks about an unbeatable weapon,” Rachel exclaimed.
“That sounds about right,” Gabe commented.
“And the Guardians will be given a weapon of superior quality. It will be one that within the right hands cannot be matched or defeated by any other weapon. A sacred circle which can’t be broken, a Guardians crown,” Rachel read.
“That’s it!” Gabe shouted.
Haim took a step closer, trying to see the page from which she read, “Does it say where to find it?”
Rachel sat silently, skimming the passage, then looked up at the faces staring back at her. “I’m afraid not.”
The entire room filled heavy with despair. Gabe looked around at all of his friends, their expressions revealing their defeat. He contemplated how to deliver them hope again. “Don’t lose hope so quickly. We just found out this weapon is not a myth. If it exists, there’s someone who knows where it is. We just have to find them.”
Rachel stood up, taking her husband’s hand. “Gabe’s right. This is amazing news. This tells us that there’s a way to defeat them.”
“So now what?” Dina asked.
Michael didn’t speak, he looked to Gabe, happy to allow him to take the role he always knew he was meant to have.
Gabe looked around the room, with a deep breath he answered, “Now we start asking questions. Everyone, everywhere, someone knows something and we’ll find them, no matter how long it takes.”
The room was silent until all of the sudden Uri shouted, “Darn straight we will!”
Sophie screeched, startled by his abruptness. Everyone burst out laughing, which soon shifted into a sort of cheering. The group felt something they had not felt in a very long time. They had found hope.
Uri struggled to keep pace with Michael. “Will you hold up a minute?” He pleaded with him.
Michael paid no attention to the request and continued frantically down the hall, veering into his office without a word. Uri watched as he darted back and forth across the room, throwing various items into a satchel.
“Something doesn’t feel right about this,” Uri stated, mulling over the information he had just been given in his mind.
“Nothing’s right about this.” Michael’s words were venomous. Uri wondered if he blamed him for the recent news, but then did his best to put the thought out of his mind.
“I’m serious, slow down for a second. Most people don’t even know where the council is from one minute to the next. You’re a member and half the time you have to use your elder stone to find out where they are. Do you really think they would risk being exposed for Mirada?” Uri argued.
Michael paused for a moment, then shaking his head, dismissing the thought, he continued his packing. “The council will do whatever they have to do to get whatever they want and they’ve wanted Mirada for a very long time. I have to help her, Uri.”
“All I’m saying is are we sure we can trust where the information is coming from?” Uri urged.
“I can’t afford not to trust it,” Michael rebutted.
“This kid who came to you is nothing more than an errand boy, do you think he’s really going to carry information like that?” Uri was not willing to relent on the idea.
Throwing the last of the items he required into the bag, Michael sealed it, tossing it on his back. Walking over to his young friend he placed a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly. “I’ll be careful, but I can’t sit here and do nothing, it’s Mirada.”
Uri knew there was nothing more he could say. If it were Seraphine who might be in trouble there wouldn’t be a force strong enough in the world that would keep him away. Uri’s heart sank at the thought of her; he’d been searching for her since the day she had disappeared from Iron Gate without a word. Her dark, raven-like hair, the soft touch of her flesh against his, even her smell, there wasn’t a thing about her he didn’t long for. Turning to his mentor Uri nodded. He understood.
Michael rushed from the room and out into the throngs of people. He made his way to where the tombs were, but today the memories of Raimie’s tragic demise in those tombs were not on his mind. If it was true that the council had discovered Mirada was in fact still alive, and if they had somehow tracked her down, they would most certainly lock her away, never to be heard from again.
He could barely control the fury that was growing inside him. Long ago, Michael had reconciled himself to the fact that he couldn’t have both Mirada and be on the side that would help save the world. A sacrifice would have to be made, and as long as he knew Mirada was secretly safe, it was a decision he could live with. But this new information changed everything. He didn’t know what he would be walking into, but for her he would gladly give up his position with the council, even leave the order if he had to. He would do whatever he had to do if it would keep her safe.
His heart racing, he transported without hesitation to a familiar mountaintop, then in another blink of the eye to a valley with a crystal-like brook running through it. Pausing, he looked around to ensure he was alone, then transported again to the mouth of a cave in some distant land, so barren that few visited it. Since the war began the council had begun to move around quite frequently. As a member of the council, Michael was given a tracking stone that would always lead him to them, but precautions needed to be taken. A minimum of three random transports was required before actually arriving at the exact location.
With a deep breath, Michael closed his eyes and made his last transport. The most recent location, an abandoned monastery, had been one of the longest residences for the group in some time. When Michael reappeared, he paused. A chicken scurried across his path as he looked around, searching for any sign of his comrades. There was no movement by anything except a few animals and some trees swaying in the cool mountain air.
He listened for a moment, searching for any sound that might indicate something out of the norm. Much to his surprise, he heard nothing except the things in his immediate vicinity.
Taking a step closer to the main hall, a new feeling flooded over him. It was as though all of the blood had been drained from his body, he felt weak, lightheaded, ill, all at the same time. He stumbled, trying to regain his composure. Something was wrong; he was confident the overwhelming empty feeling within him was some sort of warning. He trembled at the idea something horrible might have happened to his beloved.
For a brief moment he considered transporting, fleeing until he could gather more information, but then he thought better of the idea. If there was a chance Mirada were here, he could not risk any harm coming to her. He had to be sure.
Wiggling his limbs, he attempted to shake off the sinking feeling. With a few more steps he reached the main door of the largest hall. Looking down he stared at the dirt floors inside the opening. Something about this new meeting place brought him comfort in a way. For the longest time, before the war fully erupted
, the council resided in a grand palace that had marble floors and the decadence of the location had always made him feel uncomfortable. The humbleness of the recent places they had found themselves in made Michael feel more at ease.
Cautiously he stepped one foot inside, then another, peering around the entryway as he entered. He knew the place well, considering his presence was required at most of the planning meetings. Once inside, all he would need to do is round one corner, pass through the bamboo archway, and the room they met in would be before him. Thoughts raced through his mind. What if they do have Mirada? What can I do? Id it possible they would have harmed her? His heart twisted, no … you can’t let your mind go there. These men are my brothers. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. He told himself.
Releasing one last big breath, pushing all the air from his lungs, Michael emerged into the room. He opened his eyes, wide, and prepared to greet his brethren. The room shrank inward, all around him, as his eyes took in a sight he had not expected. He had accepted the idea this was a trick, that perhaps he had offended the council one too many times with his unorthodox methods. He had accepted they might, in fact, be luring him there to imprison him for his insubordination. What he saw now though, was not what he had expected.
A half circle of handmade bamboo tables was sprawled out before him. At each table, a small stool perched behind it with an elder seated in it. None of them looked up at him, their heads lying on the table tops, the blood from their slit throats draining, and spilling onto the dirt floor. All of them, they were all dead.
Michael’s head began to spin. He fell to his knees, purging himself of all of his stomach contents. A tear ran down his cheek, as he wiped away a string of vomit with the back of his hand, from the corner of his mouth. “No,” he gasped, shaking his head, as if trying to make the reality before him disappear.
“I knew you’d come!” a voice called out behind him.
Michael staggered to his feet and turned to face his worst nightmare. Baal stood before him, a smirk on his face. He wore his signature grey, pinstripe, three-piece suit, and casually twisted his pinky ring on his long and slender well-manicured finger. As it rotated Michael caught a glimpse of the rubies in the skull’s eye sockets. His black hair was slicked back, the sight of his false appearance made Michael sick to his stomach.
A slight panic rushed over him as he thought, you need to get the heck out of here. But he knew transporting would be pointless. If he fled back to Iron Gate, Baal would most certainly pick up the tracer and follow him. He would bring the same fate of the council down on everyone he cared about. There was only one option. He would stand and fight, even if it meant perishing like the council.
Widening his stance and clenching his fists, Michael prepared himself. “Baal. I should have known you were behind this.”
“What Michael,” Baal taunted, “you don’t like my handiwork? I’m actually quite proud of it.”
“I’m going to kill you for this,” Michael warned, flexing his fists at his sides.
“I doubt that,” Baal smirked. “I actually wanted you here for a reason, not just to kill you like the rest of those sad specimens behind you. They really are pathetic aren’t they, far past their prime.”
“I have no interest in anything you have to say,” Michael spat.
Baal looked down at his hands, spreading his fingers out, after a moment he cracked his neck from side to side, then clenching his fists, he popped each knuckle, the sound echoing in the room. “Ugh, I hate this body. I don’t know how humans tolerate it.”
“So why not take your true form?” Michael growled.
“You know how humans are, they’re much more willing to serve me in this form,” Baal replied.
“They’ll see you for what you are. You can pretend to be something else to the humans, but it won’t change the outcome. We’re going to defeat you,” Michael warned.
With a sarcastic tone Baal laughed and said, “It doesn’t look that way to me,” He paused, sizing Michael up, before continuing. “Look, I don’t want kill all of you, it’s really a pain in the butt to deal with all of this “Great War” bull.”
“Well, I’m so sorry we’re a bother for you,” Michael snarled.
“Will you just shut up for a minute!” Baal snapped. “Jeez, I don’t know how those kids of yours deal with your blow-hardness all the time. I knew you’d come here for that tramp.”
“She’s not a tramp!” Michael shouted, allowing his emotions to get the better of him.
“Shh!” Baal quickly added, lifting a single finger to his lips. “I said shut up!” He took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. “Like I was saying, I knew you’d come here for her. And I wanted you to come here, not so I could kill you like all of them, but so I could offer you a truce. A deal that would keep your precious Mirada safe.”
“I told you. I’m not interested in any deal you have to offer,” Michael answered swiftly.
“Fine, she can die like everyone else, including you!” Baal’s shouted. He lifted his hands into the air, his open palm beginning to glow red.
Realizing perhaps he had acted too hastily, Michael quickly lifted his hands and pleaded, “wait, no … I want to hear this truce idea.”
Baal’s lips once again twisted into a sinister smile, as he slowly lowered his palms. “There we go, that’s the reasonable Michael I was hoping for. There’s no need for all of this fighting. We have no desire to kill all of the humans. They are welcome to live and become our servants. Your sweet Mirada can be safe. Tell me what I want and you can even be with her until you grow old and die naturally. We’ll give you two a sort of immunity, if you will.”
“And what is it you want to know? What information will make you leave us all alone?” Michael asked, even though he was quite confident he already knew the answer. He had no intention of striking a deal with Baal, but he needed the time to think, to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess.
“It’s easy, you tell me the location of the protector, and this all ends,” Baal proposed, taking a step closer.
“I see,” Michael said, lowering his head, as if he were actually considering the offer. He knew he would not survive a fight with Baal, but he was having trouble seeing any other option.
“I mean, think about it Michael. The life of one boy in exchange for the lives of all your precious humans. It seems like a fair deal if you ask me. More than fair actually,” Baal continued.
Pulling his sword from its sheath, Michael opened his stance, and prepared himself for battle, the pale blue glow of his blade calming him.
“You can’t be serious?” Baal scoffed at the sight of his opponent.
Michael didn’t reply with words, instead he let his weapon speak for him. Rushing across the path between them at full speed, his muscles flexed as he moved in close. An image of Mirada flashed through his mind. He longed to touch her face, even if only one more time; for his fingertips to graze her cheek, to move a single strand of hair and tuck it behind her ear, and to peer into her immensely deep eyes.
Pulling his right elbow back, and stepping into the thrust, Michael rammed his sword into Baal’s gut. Their faces only inches from each other, Michael shivered at Baal’s expression. There was no pain, he was merely annoyed by Michael’s attempt. A blackness washed over Baal’s irises and he shoved Michael back with open palms.
The sword pulled free from Baal’s flesh, as Michael stumbled backwards several feet and fell to the ground. Michael stared at where he had wounded Baal, but much to his dismay he saw no blood seeping from it. Instead, he watched in horror as hundreds of bugs, ranging from cockroaches to centipedes emerged from the gash.
Baal lowered his hands to his side, and then, with open palms, slowly began to lift them in the air. As he did flames emerged from the ground all around him, the higher he lifted his hands, the higher the flames climbed.
Michael scurried back, using the heels of his hands to help increase the distance between himself and Ba
al.
“Do you actually think you have a chance against me?” Baal shouted. The angrier he became, the more his appearance began to twist. His flesh turned gray and started to crack. “I’m immortal! You can’t kill me!”
“You really are one ugly cuss, aren’t you?” Michael antagonized. Rising to his feet, he placed the sword back at his side. His only hope to escape would be with the use of magic.
Michael shifted his body into a casting stance, every muscle in him now aching.
“Your power is nothing against mine. Your elders were like lambs to the slaughter. They didn’t even put up a fight. When will you get it? Everyone seems to realize you’ve already lost, except you,” As he spoke, Baal’s voice filled the room, echoing in Michael’s ears.
Looking back at his dead brothers in arms, something overcame him. He was no longer scared, or nervous, he knew in that moment what he had to do.
“These men, they didn’t always make the right decisions, but they tried. They all had human blood, coursing through their veins. They were fallible like all Guardians, like all humans. And that’s what truly sets us apart,” Michael spoke.
Baal laughed wildly, “What, that you screw everything up? That because of your human blood you will always fail?”
Michael shook his head, “No, don’t you see? It doesn’t matter that they died. It matters how they lived. Others will take up their cross. What sets us apart is the human spirit. We have love, and therefore we will always persevere. I’m sure many more will die before this is over, but their deaths aren’t empty, not like yours will be. You see, they’ll be remembered long after you’re forgotten.”
With those words Baal’s fury boiled over. He lifted his hand towards Michael, bits of his flesh dropping off and floating through the air as if they were ash. Baal shouted, “We’ll see about that!” A red stream shot out from his palm, slicing through the flames and rocketing towards Michael.
