by Jacob Whaler
Ryzaard tried the implant experiment on a Stone Holder.
Now it begins to make sense.
After a simple surgical procedure, the green implant connects to the core of the slave’s brain. The implant itself is in constant connection with the planetary network. The network controller can pull from the slave’s mind, but the slave himself cannot access the network.
Unless the slave is a Holder with a Stone, a universal connection device.
That’s why Ryzaard’s experiment ended in failure. Little John’s Stone gave him direct access back to the network. He wasn’t just a slave.
So that’s the answer. The implants work. All that remains is to do some fine-tuning, work on the connection between the implant and the Earth’s Mesh, and find a way to mass-produce them. While she’s at it, it makes sense to move the planetary network to a new location so that the Lethonen can no longer find it. Jhata doesn’t want them hanging around trying to get it back.
Then the implants will need to be tested on a human from Earth who doesn’t have a Stone.
Jhata has just the person in mind, out on the plain below the cliff.
CHAPTER 43
Yarah quickly closes her eyes and finds Matt and his Stone floating in the darkness. His mind is completely open, offering no resistance. Everything is accessible. She can go anywhere, do anything.
But there isn’t time to play. She drops down through multiple levels until she’s standing in the Core. A thin ribbon of quivering pink flesh stretches from floor to ceiling. Yarah takes care to keep herself positioned as far away from it as possible. If she were to accidentally cut the strand, Matt would instantly die.
With practiced focus, she looks down through Matt’s own eyes and sees the Stone in his hand. She is simultaneously herself and him, standing with her Stone in her right hand and his Stone in her left hand. An instant surge of power makes every part of her body sing with joy. It’s like she wields a hundred Stones.
No. Ten thousand.
So many things to do. With effort, Yarah resists the temptation, promising herself that she will do them later. Time is precious now. She has to act before Ryzaard wakes up, just as Matt told her.
First, she jumps out of Matt’s mind and finds Ryzaard. The presence of his seven Stones is almost overwhelming. They scream out to her for attention. She can possess them all, make them her own. It would be so easy.
No time for that.
Negotiating the entrance to his mind is harder. He hasn’t opened up to her. It’s more like he’s asleep with the doors locked. The pulse rifle shots to his chest have set off a firestorm in his nervous system. He’s awash in a maelstrom of pain and working to calm it down.
It won’t take him long.
Yarah senses Ryzaard’s focus. He can’t turn away until the pain is gone. His own survival instincts had taken over.
That was the way they planned it. Hurt Ryzaard enough to keep him fully occupied, but not enough to kill him. A dead mind will yield no information. And information is what they’ve come after.
With the power of her and Matt’s Stones, Yarah slips past Ryzaard’s defenses. It’s like running a maze for the second time. It’s doable, but it still takes effort. There aren’t any shortcuts. She darts and weaves through the obstacles. Along the way, she notices his mind is different from the last time. More organized and streamlined. For some reason, it reminds her of Jhata.
Then she breaks through and stands on a broad plain. In the far distance, she sees a jagged-toothed mountain range. It wasn’t there before. The temptation to investigate its canyons and spurs is overpowering. With effort, Yarah resists and, closing her eyes, drops down a couple of levels, scanning for any memories of Jessica.
It’s like flying through a massive room full of paintings, the kind she saw once in a museum in Rio de Janeiro. She’s looking for just one and will recognize it when she sees it. But it takes time. She has to stop and pause in front of each one before moving on. It’s difficult because there’s so much information here, so much that would be useful to her and Matt.
But time is short.
Ryzaard is moving fast.
Yarah senses a shift in his attention. He’s dealing with the pain faster than she or Matt expected. Too fast. If she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, it will turn into a battle of Stone Holders, and Ryzaard will have the advantage.
Then the realization hits her. Back in the real world, her and Matt are sitting on the floor only a few feet from Ryzaard. She doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he attacks them before they are ready.
The pictures fly by, random images arranged in random order from the vaults of Ryzaard’s memory.
Another shift in Ryzaard’s mental state. As fast as she is moving, it isn’t fast enough.
Ryzaard has almost recovered.
Yarah stops and stares at the two Stones in her hand in all their radiant splendor. In her own mind, she creates an image of the target. Jessica. It draws Yarah in a blur past memory after memory before grinding to a stop squarely in front of the one she’s been searching for.
Yarah reaches out and accesses the bundle of memory floating a few inches away. She instantly sees it through Ryzaard’s eyes. Jessica asleep on the motel bed. Ryzaard’s hand seizes her shoulder. A flash of light.
Jessica is enveloped in a bubble of energy, lying on a floor next to a massive column the color of jade-green.
Yarah instantly recognizes Jhata’s world.
There’s more. Ryzaard is talking to Jhata. His eyes drift down to tiny pieces of green on a table. It’s a matter of supreme importance.
Just a few more seconds and Yarah can grasp it all.
But a sudden shift inside Ryzaard’s mind hits her like an earthquake. She senses a clarity of thought that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. It takes a herculean effort to let go of the memory and jump to the surface away from Matt and Ryzaard.
In an instant, Yarah is back in her body. Her eyes snap open. Matt sits beside her, head bowed, still in the lotus position. He’s completely exposed, with no protective field, no access to his Stone. Ryzaard is on his feet. Fire burns in his eyes as he lunges at Matt. Ragged tongues of energy burst out of his palms. They move as if in slow motion across five meters of empty space.
Yarah keeps control of Matt’s Stone and becomes a blur.
Jumping between Ryzaard and Matt, she throws her arms out to either side. A veneer of translucent white energy, as thin as butterfly wings, fans out from her hands.
Ryzaard’s power burst breaks against it and disintegrates without a trace. He lunges again and ejects another barrage of purple fire.
Matt’s head still hangs down beside Yarah.
With the heels of her hands together, she rams them forward. An arc of white light forms between her fingers into a ball, breaks free and shoots at Ryzaard. It meets the purple fire head on, swallows it and flows toward Ryzaard’s chest.
A thick protective bubble coalesces around him. The white ball collides with its surface, causing a deep curvature that bends inward until it makes contact with Ryzaard’s body. The signature of pain streaks across his face. He staggers back and slams into a window. The thick glass shatters with the impact, and Ryzaard breaks through and falls out of sight.
The nearly silent whistle of projectiles slicing through the air behind her catches Yarah’s attention. She swings away from the window to face a mass of men in black armor emerging from the top of the spiral staircase, like a horde of army ants pouring out of their hole. A fine mist of pulse bullets flies at her and Matt. With childlike curiosity, she watches them approach. Waving her hand, she instantly throws up a thin transparent screen the color of gold. As she waits, the black projectiles break against it and disintegrate into gray dust.
Her mind races. Matt still sits in the lotus position on the floor, head bowed and eyes closed.
Moving like a black ooze, the soldiers fan out into battle formation. Some hide behind priceless sculptures
and set up cannons on tripods. Others hug the floor with laser rifles close to their chests. Yarah’s eye zooms in on the sonic grenades they rip from their belts. All of them are preparing for a full assault.
The seed of an idea begins to form in her mind.
Without waiting for it to fully mature, her hand drops down. A blue film of protective energy flows out of her Stone onto Matt’s head and over his body. She holds its shape in her mind like a holo, every particle and frequency under effortless control.
I wonder if I can fly?
Yarah jumps forward through the golden screen still hanging between her and the soldiers. The warmth of its surface wraps like a soft blanket around her shoulders so that it extends from head to foot. Hanging in the air of the open room, she flies forward, arms extending out in the shape of a T.
A hail of laser cannon blasts and pulse projectiles jumps up from the soldiers to meet her as she circles them. It all breaks harmlessly against the delicate lace of the gold wrapping that envelopes her. The men clench their jaws and fire as she studies their faces and brushes through their minds.
Here and there, a priceless piece of marble sculpture is touched by a laser tongue of fire and shatters into white powder.
Hovering near the ceiling like a golden butterfly, Yarah brings her hands together. The air folds and waves around her like a mirage. Then she lets her hands fall apart. In the silence that enfolds them all, a harmonic wave starts as a low hum and gradually grows in crescendo. Visible ripples roll out from Yarah’s fingers.
As the wave passes over them, guns and armor vibrate like fine crystal and collapse into black ash. The remaining sculptures shatter and crumble into fragments of stone and metal. Around the floor, windows turn white with spider web fractures and explode out. An excruciating tone resonates through the bodies of the combat troops. Writhing in pain, they try to block the sonic blast by bringing hands up to their heads. Blood flows from their ears and eyes.
All of them collapse to the floor.
Yarah drops down at Matt’s side. He still sits motionless, eyes closed, face drooping down. Resisting the temptation to hold on to the power of his Stone, Yarah kneels beside him and releases her control of it. As its energy drains out, she is left limp and tired.
Matt’s eyes flip open and he immediately glances at the spot where Ryzaard had been lying.
“Where is he?” Matt jumps to his feet.
“I blew him out the window,” Yarah says.
Matt scans the carnage in the room.
A draft of cool night air comes in through the shattered windows. Priceless artifacts lie in piles of rubble and dust across the floor. A light haze of smoke snakes through the room. Dozens of combat troops groan and crawl aimlessly, deaf and blind.
Matt’s eyes open wide. “Amazing. You did all this?”
Yarah nods. “I couldn’t help it. They were shooting at us. I had so much power with your Stone and mine together. It wasn’t hard.”
“Did you find out where Jessica is?”
“Yes.” Yarah has an apologetic look on her face. “On Jhata’s world. Ryzaard took her there.” Her eyes travel beyond Matt to the shattered window behind him. “We better leave soon. He’ll be coming back any second.”
“Let’s go.” Matt grabs his backpack.
“Where to?”
Matt kneels down in front of Yarah. “Do you have Alexa’s exact position?”
Yarah closes her eyes for an instant and flips them open. “Only a couple of blocks away. In a hotel.”
“Good.” Matt reaches down and takes the closed cloaking box out of her hand. “Take us there.” He works a fingernail under the lip of the lid and flips it up.
Both of their Stones go dead.
“How?” Yarah looks at the black rock in her hand.
Matt grins. “The old-fashioned way.” They take off running across the floor to the open fire escape.
CHAPTER 44
Jessica floats in a multicolored dreamscape amid fluffy clouds and brilliant sunlight. Spheres of soft light, most of them larger than her body, bob up and down in a gentle sea of warm mist. She turns onto her stomach and moves her arms in a vague swimming motion. Muted voices draw her up through a sea of pinks and yellows. The smells of vanilla and roses waft by as she moves higher.
The sky turns darker the higher she goes. At first it’s violet. Then it moves to dark purple on its way to black. The air takes on a harsh, cold edge. She tries to move away, to swim back down to the comfortable zone just below, but the currents pull her higher until she’s overcome with chills. Pinpricks of light break through the darkness. The voices grow louder. She can hear them distinctly, but the language is unintelligible.
Streaks of jagged light rip through the blackness. Snippets of faces appear above her. Long dark hair. Brown skin. Deep green eyes. Long flowing robes wrap around lithe bodies. Human.
Biting pain stabs through her legs below the knees.
Jessica tries to move, to get up, but too many hands hold her down. A warm, metallic liquid touches her lips. Bitterness floods her mouth and flows down her throat. She fights back, trying to spit it out, but the liquid keeps coming, and she has to swallow, or drown.
Why are they trying to kill me?
She picks a woman’s voice out of the chaos of voices above her. It sounds familiar. Though she can’t understand the language, it’s clear the voice is shouting commands to the others. A hot cloth wraps around her ankles, burning skin, ripping it away.
Jessica opens her throat to scream and imagines the look of bare bones on her feet.
She has to leave, to get back to Matt. Using all her strength, she raises her upper body, but the multitude of hands pushes her back down. The woman whose voice she knows appears overhead, staring down with gentle eyes.
CHAPTER 45
“Hold her down,” Saatuk says. “I need to give her more of the drangee leaves.” She turns and dips her fingers in a shallow bow filled with green paste.
“Why did you bring her out of the dreams?” Kutaas asks. “You saw the fear in her eyes. She thinks we’re trying to kill her.”
Saatuk adjusts the dark cloth covering the young woman’s feet and ankles. “Her fevers are too high. She needs the kumpaas juice to bring it down. Don’t worry. The fevers are a sign the wounds are healing.” She bends down over the young woman and gently puts a palm on her forehead. Then she paints a thick green line of drangee across her lower lip.
The young woman’s eyes dart around the ring of faces staring at her. After a few seconds, her eyes roll back up into her head, the lids drop down, and her body goes limp.
They stretch her arms and legs out on the floor.
A tall young man walks through the early morning air and into the open door of the hut. He pushes through the crowd surrounding the woman laid out on the floor. When he finally makes it to the inner circle, he looks down at Saatuk.
Saatuk brushes her long gray hair aside and looks up through emerald eyes.
“What is it?”
The young man bows his head with respect. “You have been summoned to the Ring. They are waiting.”
The others exchange looks and back away.
“Then I will go.” She turns to her husband and hands the bowl of drangee leaves to him. “Watch over her, Kutaas. Do not be afraid.”
CHAPTER 46
Yarah puts her head to the floor at the top of the emergency escape stairway and stares down. “The lines are gone.” She lifts her cheek and stands. “Strange.”
“That must have been some blast out on the floor. Looks like you disabled the entire security system. Sorry I missed it.” Matt grabs Yarah’s hand. Together they fly down twenty-five flights of stairs until they reach the bottom.
The exit door is slightly ajar. A knife edge of light comes through it. Matt moves to it with the Stone in one hand and the open cloaking box in the other. Working his shoe between the door and the wall, he inches it open and steps out into the service entrance.
Before Matt can react, a heavy object slams into his backpack, pushing him forward and knocking him to the concrete. His arms stretch out to break the fall. As his wrists hit the ground, the cloaking box slips from his fingers and rolls away.
He hears the crisp click of the lid snapping shut.
The Stone in Matt’s right hand flashes into brilliant light. A film of green energy envelopes his body. The next instant, a searing pain rips up his spine. He turns in time to see Ryzaard standing at street level above him.
A river of hot purple plasma shoots out of Ryzaard’s hands and engulfs Matt. The concrete around and under him turns soft and begins to boil. The green energy shield holds, but it’s thinning in places. Microscopic particles of purple bleed through onto his skin, causing incredible pain.
With effort, Matt reaches up and slams his fist against his chest. Blue skin flows around him and stops the pain.
Matt bounds up the steps to street level and stands on the dark road five meters from Ryzaard. His left hand drops to his side and curls into a fist. The fingers of his right hand grip the Stone.
“Now and then you win a battle.” Ryzaard takes a step forward. “But you’re losing the war.” He raises his arms and forms a sphere of boiling blue energy directly above Matt’s head. Then his arms drop, and the sphere comes down and swallows Matt.
Standing in the middle of the blue energy, Matt is wrapped in the protective green membrane, but struggles to hold it together against Ryzaard’s onslaught. Slowly, the green energy membrane begins to grow thin and disintegrate against his will.
“How can one or two Stones stand against my seven?” Ryzaard’s lips stretch into a smile over gritted teeth. “It’s a matter of simple mathematics. And time. I have all night.”
“You’ve tried before,” Matt says. “You can’t kill me.” A burning sensation starts to rip across the surface of his blue skin. He tries to move, but is pinned in place.
