Sentinels of Creation: A Power Renewed

by Robert W. Ross

  Maurius raised his voice. “Do you even know what this place is? Do you know what I can accomplish here? Power cannot be created or destroyed, Kellan. Did your would be trainer, Micah, ever tell you that? What do you think happens to the power of a Sentinel if the vessel in which that power resides is destroyed?”

  “No idea, but I bet you are about to tell me.”

  “It seeks out another vessel!” yelled Maurius. “Do you see any other vessels around her here? Well? Do you? No, you do not, because only you and I are able to come here. So when I kill you, your power will seek its vessel and finding none available, I will claim it for myself.”

  Kellan smiled, trying to appear nonplussed. “Is this the part where you start to laugh maniacally at your master plan? I’m pretty sure it is.”

  Maurius started to visibly shake in anger, clenching his fists as his eyes glowed even brighter. “No, this is where Micah’s lack of preparation and utter failure as a Sentinel reaches its final ignominious conclusion. Perhaps you should have had more than a few hours training.”

  Kellan saw the geyser of flame begin to erupt from the ground as if it were in stop motion, having already created a time bubble around himself as he leaped toward the throne while simultaneously snapping a shield around himself and summoning electrically charged clouds to form above them. A moment later the flames subsided and, to Maurius’ eyes, Kellan had simply been consumed by the white hot flames, having moved too quickly within the time bent bubble to have been tracked. Too late, the elder Sentinel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and turned to see Kellan standing behind the throne, eyes ablaze with glowing green runes running down both arms as they gestured in his direction.

  Lightning streaked down burying, itself into the runes and then arcing out again through both outstretched hands. Maurius had only partially formed his shield when both bolts struck him square in the chest, hurling him into the air to land hard against the stone bench, smoke rising from where the energy had burned away his shirt and blistered the skin.

  “How?” Maurius gasped, regaining his feet.

  “Guess I had a bit more training than I let on, asshole,” yelled Kellan as he willed plasma fire to ignite the air all around Maurius’ body, engulfing him in a white hot conflagration.

  It faded. Maurius stood unharmed and stepped deliberatively beyond the circle of scorched and slightly molten stone his shield rippling in a red aura against the wisps of smoke that brushed against it. Kellan looked inward to find a third of his power had been expended in this initial exchange and reminded himself that he was the novice here. Maurius’ plan for obtaining the young Sentinel’s power if killed certainly had the ring of truth to it. Not that he wanted to die under any circumstances, but under these circumstances, he really wanted to avoid it.

  Kellan saw Maurius’ eyes look past him and turned in time to see a barrage of stones hurtling towards him. Kellan fell to one knee, grunting with the exertion of channeling energy to his shield even as he angled it to cause some of the stones to skitter off rather than strike with their full force. “Telekinesis,” Kellan thought, “I really need to learn that.” But didn’t have time to consider it further as Maurius strode toward him, a massive sword coalescing in his hand. Kellan raised his hand defensively as he felt the sword breach his shield and continue down until it struck with a shower of sparks, vibrating against his own which had materialized moments before the metal would have cleaved him in two. Slowly, Kellan rose, willing power into his legs as the two men glared at each other across their blades.

  “I will kill you, Kellan Thorne!”

  “Yeah, well, get in line, Red Ranger.” Kellan felt Maurius’ anger grow and could see him gathering energy in preparation of another strike. Kellan’s sword vanished even as he pivoted to the left causing Maurius to stumble forward as the young Sentinel brought up his gleaming replica of Sting, glowing bright blue as he made to draw it across Maurius’ neck. Off balance from his pivot, Kellan’s blade missed its mark, leaving instead a deep gash along Maurius’ cheek.

  The elder Sentinel whirled on Kellan, raising his hand to his face and feeling the hot blood as it ran freely from the wound. He stared at Kellan in disbelief.

  “Don’t worry, chicks dig scars. By the way, I assume this whole kill the Sentinel in the workroom works both ways. Maybe I’ll leave here a demigod instead of you?”

  Maurius stood glaring at the younger man. “You have no idea the forces with which you mettle. You dare taunt me when you should be on your knees in worship? I have seen millennia pass by me and will see millennia more long after you are dust. You think you are my equal? You think you can learn in weeks what I have spent lifetimes mastering?”

  He has a point. Shut up. Not helping. Kellan ground his teeth, dismissing his thoughts.

  Maurius looked up and thrust both hands toward the sky which darkened at the gesture even as the sky split to reveal the black of space scattered with stars and a brightly glowing moon. Kellan ground his teeth and drew deep from his waning river of power calling up an elemental barrage the strongest he had ever summoned, and hurled them all at Maurius. Fire, Ice, and Lightning all struck the elder Sentinel, causing him to stagger back but his concentration never left the sky. Kellan sent wave after wave of projectiles only to see them shatter or dissipate against Maurius’ shield, some few passing through to leave bloody gashes across his chest and legs. With the last of his energy, Kellan slumped against the bench as he saw the final flurry strike the shield, collapse it, and hurl Maurius’ body against the stone throne where he gasped. He smiled as blood dripped from his mouth.

  Pain lanced though Kellan’s shoulder and he saw a fountain of blood and flesh arc outward, pitching him against the stone. His right arm was a ruin with a fist sized hole, smoking black with cauterized blood. He rolled over just as a burning stone struck where his head had been moments before. The moon was gone or, more accurately, lay shattered with a full third of it missing. Above him, Kellan could see fiery trails all headed in his direction.

  “Oh, fuck me,” groaned Kellan, “He actually summoned a meteor storm.” The blazing rocks seemed to be targeting him as he scrambled backward using his feet and one good arm. He had just reconstituted his shield when another meteorite struck, passing directly through as if no shield existed. Kellan howled in pain as he saw the rock pass through his calf, shattering the bone so badly that the lower part of his leg was held together by strings of tendons alone. He looked up at Maurius, who tried to laugh, but merely coughed, showering blood across his already ruined chest.

  Kellan groaned. It’s going to be a race to see which of us dies first,” He looked up to find a massive fire trail heading down directly to him. No hiding from that one. The young Sentinel frantically sought for some means of escape.

  Kellan reached deep into himself and drained the last of the power leaving the riverbank dry and empty. He arched his back and pushed with all his remaining energy as he caused a gravity bubble to manifest around himself. The force of the push, hurled Kellan into the air and hundreds of feet in the opposite direction. He watched as the meteorite struck, leaving a long crack along the entire precipice and saw Maurius reach up a hand in his direction, even as the gravity bubble faded and Kellan began to fall.

  The top of the precipice passed by in a blur and Kellan turned into the practiced stance he had learned many years ago when he agreed to skydive on a dare. He felt the air grip him and he stabilized. He reached inward seeking his power.

  Nothing.

  “No big deal,” Kellan told himself, “This is the workroom. I can just keep falling here forever until my power regenerates. I’ll just relax and—”

  Kellan whipped his body to the side, barely avoiding a jagged outcropping that had appeared moments before. Maurius was changing the landscape from above. Kellan looked around and saw similar outcropping sprouting up at random. They appeared above, below, and to either side. Clearly the elder Sentinel did not know exactly where Kellan was, bu
t sought to create enough obstacles to eventually crush him against one. Kellan knew it was just a matter of time until his luck ran out.

  He closed his eyes and, again, reached inward. A tiny trickle had returned to the riverbed and Kellan greedily drew it in. He formed the power into what he needed most and opened his eyes to find a solid mass of earth rushing up to meet him.

  Kellan screamed and threw up his hands as a shimmering portal rotated into view.

  Kellan hit the bed hard. So hard in fact that the entire platform cracked, leaving him lying bloody on the foam mattress barely conscious. He opened one eye just to confirm he was, in fact, at his house and not dead. Both appeared to be true as Kellan cried out in pain, rolling over on his back

  A detached and clinical part of his mind took stock of his injuries and current condition. That part of him decided he really should be dead from these injuries and was likely to go into shock at any minute. Kellan tried to slow his breathing and remain calm as he reached inward to find Nurisha standing with her back to him—ankle deep in the flowing emerald power. He sighed with relief as the pain of his corporeal self receded to memory.

  “Nurisha?”

  She turned and smiled. “You nearly killed us.”

  “Us? What happened to power not being created or destroyed?”

  “Oh, my power would remain, but what makes me, me, would die with you. I like being me. Would you be more careful?”

  Kellan felt ashamed. “Yeah, I really went off half cocked. Ended up bringing a knife to a gun fight and nearly broke the universe. Pretty stupid.”

  “Yes, pretty stupid,” Nurisha agreed.

  “Thanks for the support.”

  She smiled. “You are quite welcome. Look, Kellan, your vessel has grown again.” She gestured to the distant riverbank. Your capacity to hold and channel my power has increased by 20%. Being stupid does have some advantages.”

  Kellan felt himself smile. “Nurisha, did you just make a joke?”

  She cocked her head, “Did I?” She smiled back at him. “I guess I did. That is delightful.”

  Kellan sobered. “The 20% you mentioned. Is that good?”

  “It seems good.”

  “What I mean is, how does that compare to Maurius? How much can he hold and channel.”

  “I do not know, but I suspect much more. Even in the workroom, breaking apart celestial objects with the mass of a moon and then directing those fragments, while simultaneously managing a shield against a sustained barrage would require a substantial energy reserve.”

  Kellan sighed. “I really am an idiot.”

  “You are young and impulsive; that is not the same thing.”

  “Thanks, but right now my body is back there a bloody mess and I need to heal it. Any ideas on that front?”

  “Yes, of course. Just hold me within you but do not channel and do not hold so much as to burn yourself out. Draw as much as you can comfortably hold without giving it form. The power will release itself into your body and seek to bring it back to the state it was in when you first accepted it. That is your body’s natural state so the power will try to restore it. As the energy is expended, simply draw more to replenish it. Do not worry about how much you use for it will regenerate faster than you could possibly use for simple healing. Look, it already is nearly halfway up the banks now. Your advancement is quite impressive, Kellan. Micah took centuries to develop as much power as you can hold now.”

  Kellan sighed. “I’m sure that’s because he wasn’t as stupid and impulsive as I am.”

  Nurisha cocked her head again, “Yes, you are probably right about that.”

  “Wonderful, well, I’m going to go back to my broken body and scream in pain now.”

  Nurisha nodded and waved as the scene dissolved.

  Kellan did, indeed, scream in pain as it stuck him like a thousand hot brands being driven into every point on his body. He drew in as much power as he dared and held it without form. Within moments he could feel it stretching throughout his body and the pain lessoned. He watched in awe as the ruined muscle and bone in his leg knitted together, followed by his shoulder. Kellan seemed to float halfway between sleep and consciousness as the power waxed and waned within him, healing the worst of his wounds. Finally, he had healed to the point where pain no longer provided enough to distract him from sleep and closed his eyes.

  Kellan groaned and opened his eyes. It was dark, with only the odd electrical device to lighten the gloom. “Hey Siri, what time is it?” he croaked, mouth feeling dry.

  Nothing. Kellan cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey Siri. Oh crap,” he groaned as realization dawned, “that bastard meteored my bloody iPhone. Now I’m really pissed. Trying to kill me I can understand, but a man’s phone should be off limits.”

  He swung his feet off the bed and grimaced as they touched the cool wood, then pushed himself up as a wave of pain and nausea washed over him. Clearly, he was far from healed, but as he padded around in a tight circle while windmilling his formerly broken arm, Kellan didn’t feel the slightest need to complain. He found himself staring absently at his Kingsized foam bed that lay crumpled at an odd angle, the frame cracked in numerous places.

  “That’s going to be difficult to explain to USAA,” he said to the empty room, then turned, slowly making his way into the bathroom and clicked on the light. Kellan sighed deeply as he took in the reflection. His face was bruised around both cheeks and his right eye was ringed in black with blood visible around the iris. He stripped off the bloody and torn clothes, dropped them in a pile, and whistled softly as he slowly turned in a circle. Like with his face, Kellan found himself covered with numerous bruises in varying stages of healing, but no actually open wounds. Apparently, his heightened healing abilities had their limits or perhaps he needed to actively help them along beyond a certain point. Kellan didn’t know and didn’t much care, as he spun up the shower and stepped inside once steam had begun to billow.

  He stayed under the hot spray until the water began to cool, then reluctantly turned off the shower and gingerly made his way across the room to pull fresh clothes from the closet. After donning fresh boxers and jeans, Kellan flipped through a number of t-shirts, seeking inspiration.

  “Don’t Blink…Blink and You’re Dead.” No, too close to home.

  “I’m a high functioning sociopath.” No, probably not even appropriate to ever wear again.

  “What the Frak?” Kellan set this one aside as having definite possibilities given his current mood, but as he pulled out the next shirt a smile broke across his face and he chuckled.

  “Now, that’s perfect,” Kellan said as he slipped it on, but felt his smile vanish when he remembered that he’d left his car at James’ condo. Kellan walked out of the bedroom and across the hall into the second room which served as his home office. A large corner desk took up much of the space with old wooden bookshelves lining each wall. The smell of leather filled his nose and, actually, seemed to make him feel a bit better. The desk was covered with several large pieces of matching, tobacco colored, full-grain leather—each stamped with cursive script which read, “Saddleback.” Kellan ran his fingers across the leather, touching the brass rivets that reinforced each corner and snickered to himself as Saddleback’s tagline of “They’ll fight over it when you’re dead” flashed across his mind.

  Kellan plopped down hard onto the mesh that comprised his favorite Aeron chair and reached for the mouse. As he moved it, his iMac came to life and Kellan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the red circle with the number 15 that appeared on the Messages icon. He groaned as he clicked it, expecting a torrent of profanity from James. He definitely got that, in spades, but also found the messages slowly devolve into a much more fearful tone and then saw an entirely different thread from Juliet, Meghan, and finally a thread from them both, combined.

  Kellan glanced down at the calendar icon and his hand froze on the mouse. When he awoke, Kellan had assumed it was the same night he was out with James, but foun
d himself shaking his head ruefully at the realization he had slept through an entire day and another night. Kellan quickly tapped out a series of messages to all three of his friends telling Meghan and Juliet he would head to the shop and James that he better take care of Baby, that he knew he was a douchebag, but that he had a good explanation. He shrugged, knowing there could be no good explanation. He decided to worry about that later. Instead Kellan spun his chair around, instinctively reaching for the small leather valet tray where he’d trained himself to rest keys and iPhone, then paused a moment, staring, as its emptiness seemed to mock him.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up with a mild grunt of pain and headed out the door.

  Short minutes later Kellan turned quickly into the alley next to his shop and was reaching for the door when he was struck by an immense column of air that hurled him head over heels down the alley and against the brick wall at its far end. He had no time to properly form any protective barrier, but the partially manifested shielding he was able to erect absorbed enough of the force to prevent him from having his organs turned to jelly upon impact.

  For a moment, Kellan lay pinned against the wall, then slid down as the force abated, while white hot pain flashed across his mind. He shook his head, trying to focus and saw Maurius standing at the mouth of the alley, looking none the worse for wear.

  His immaculately groomed beard seemed to glow in the streetlight as if he’d just oiled it and his face bore none of the tell tale bruises that Kellan sported. More, as Maurius approached, he did so with a casual ease Kellan knew his sore muscles wouldn’t allow. The finely tailored suite he’d worn to their last encounter was replaced with a long flowing black robe, intricate glyphs embroidered throughout with seemingly iridescent thread. As Kellan started to rise, he saw Maurius slip both hands into deep pockets on either side of the robe, withdrawing something and flashing both hands in Kellan’s direction. Pain again blossomed as two wickedly sharp metal spikes ripped through both shoulders, slamming him back against the brick and pinning him there.