Sentinels of Creation: A Power Renewed

by Robert W. Ross

  By this point, Kellan’s voice had risen to the point where, unbidden, the river of power coursing within him amplified it further.

  Raphael had regained his feet with Michael’s help and pleaded with Kellan, “Do not do this thing. The world cannot exist without the balance between these energies. You cannot destroy him and the energy he holds. Micah understood this. Micah would never act this rashly.”

  Kellan stared at his Angelic teacher with an expression devoid of all emotion. “Raphael, energy cannot be destroyed and, as for Micah, how many times must I say it?” His voice rose as he drew more power from the river than ever before causing his body, eyes, and sword to glow so brightly even the two Angels had to look away. “I. am. not. he!”

  With that, Kellan spun tightly in a circle, and thrust his sword directly through Asmodeus’ chest, pinning him to the throne. The fallen Angel arched his back and screamed as red energy played along the length of sword. He thrashed, but the Sentinel’s sword held him fast to the throne as Kellan leaned down, still grasping its hilt, and stared into Asmodeus’ panicked eyes. He yelled, “I bind you to this place by the power of your one true name. By that name, I destroy you utterly.” And the words that were not words flowed from Kellan’s lips as they had once done long ago, in this spot, at the time of creation, long and perfect. As the last syllable faded the young Sentinel leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t feel bad, I hear oblivion is really nice this time of year.” Kellan twisted the sword violently causing Asmodeus to shudder once. A piercing red beam of energy leaped from the dead Archangel’s sightless eyes to burn its way into Kellan’s own.

  He heard a scream and, at first, thought it was his own, but when it came again, Kellan knew its source. Nurisha called him. She needed him. Dimly, Kellan felt himself release his grip on the sword as he sought the inner river where Nurisha had met him so many times before. Something was very wrong, and Kellan knew it was his fault.

  Kellan felt his inner world fade in around him as he stood along the rocky banks in which raged the torrent of green energy that formed his power. He gasped, taking it in. The far bank seemed fully twice as distant as when he had first met Nurisha here those few weeks ago.

  Guess I’ve been straining. Kellan quickly scanned the area for Nurisha’s glowing form. He heard the scream again, filled with fear and pain, then started sprinting upstream in the direction from which it came. Within moments he saw her in the center of the river, heading towards him while angling toward the nearest bank. She flailed as if beset by angry biting insects or unseen creatures from the river’s depths, both of which Kellan knew to be impossible in this place. He saw her try to elevate and run on the surface as she had done so many times before, but just as she raised herself to where this might be possible, Nurisha would writhe as if struck and sink back into the depths. Only moments had passed since Kellan first appeared. He leaped recklessly onto the churning water, forming his will into an iron determinant that he would not sink. His feet struck the surface and it curved with his weight but he did not fall though, nor even take notice as he raced towards Nurisha.

  Kellan was close enough now to see that she appeared to suffer from numerous wounds across her glowing green skin that appeared for all the world like she’d been scourged. Bright red edges framed the wounds and from them dripped liquid green energy that fell to be lost in the rushing torrent. She turned, reaching for him, her face a mask of fear and pain just as Kellan saw a bright red tendril of liquid energy slide off the surface of the river and strike her in the face, leaving a long gash as she cried out and fell beneath the surface.

  In a panic, Kellan launched himself at the point where she had submerged, willed the surface to part, and reached beneath. His hands quickly found her, holding her tight as she continued to thrash while in his embrace. She broke the surface and he stared into her eyes. They were wild with more than simple fear. Kellan shook her.

  “Nurisha! Nurisha!” he yelled, “What is wrong with you? What is wrong with this place?”

  “Chaos, Chaos, Chaos,” she screamed, squeezing his face in her hands so tightly it brought tears to his eyes. She tried to wrench away but he held her fast. She pointed upstream, shrieking, “Chaos!”

  Kellan looked and for a moment didn’t see anything but the roiling green energy. Then, as he turned back to her, out the of corner of his eye, Kellan caught a glimpse of something bright red glinting among the omnipresent green. It slid along the the water’s surface like a malevolent stain but seemed like it would harmlessly pass them by. As if in reaction to Kellan’s thought, the red streak changed directions as it drew close, angling directly for the pair. Nurisha tensed in his arms.

  “No no no! Chaos and Order…No!”

  Kellan’s blood ran cold. He knew what this was. He knew what had caused it. He knew what he had done and cursed himself a fool. Just as the red stain was about to strike Nurisha’s exposed back, Kellan spun around and protected her body with his own. He braced himself for pain which did not come. As it passed through his clothes, Kellan felt its touch like if one were to place a finger in a live electrical socket. He shuddered at the curious buzzing sensation, but had expected far worse.

  Nurisha looked up at him in horror and, for the first time, seemed to recognize him. “No! You cannot let it touch you. Let me…I will do this.”

  For his part, Kellan had been looking for more red streamers. He saw them coming—dozens, hundreds, all swirling and joining until the emerald river appeared to have a blazing red stripe running down its length, headed directly to them both. He turned to Nurisha, holding her face gently in his hands. “You told me that all energy needs a vessel. Asmodeus was such a vessel, wasn’t he?”

  Kellan could feel her tremble as she nodded and then spoke in words so soft that the slightest breeze would have carried them off, never to be heard, “and you broke it.”

  “And I broke it,” Kellan repeated in agreement, then continued, “All energy needs a vessel so it came into me. How do I get rid of it?”

  Her gaze was upstream where the glowing red stripe had seemed to slow in its approach while continuing to broaden, like a thickening red oil slick riding along the surface. Kellan shook her again and she turned. “Get rid of it?” she asked perplexed, then spoke in her mantic staccato, “You cannot destroy it. Energy cannot be destroyed. Even God could not destroy it. It can only change forms. Only HE can do that!” Her eyes took on the same glaze of a moment before as she continued to rant, “Chaos and Order! Only He can channel them both. Chaos and Order are life. Only He can make life!”

  “I’ll stop it, Nurisha. I will. When it touched me, it barely hurt. If that entire streak of Chaotic energy hits you, it would be worse for you. It could kill you.”

  “Kill me?” she asked and then Kellan saw her countenance change, becoming calm and confident in blink of an eye. “Kill me.” This time it was not a question. “Yes, it will kill me and in doing so, be itself destroyed.” She caught herself. “Not destroyed—changed. We’ll both be changed.”

  “What? Changed? I don’t want you to be changed, Nurisha. I will deal with this. It is my mistake. I need to clean it up.”

  “No!” she said, her voice sounding like a whip, “It must be this way.” Nurisha stared deeply into Kellan’s eyes, her brows furrowed in worry. “That slight touch has already marked you; I see it in you even now. I will not allow the taint to increase by further contamination. Trust me, Sentinel, it will be better this—” She broke off as Kellan’s eyes blazed to life and the liquid energy in which they stood began to swirl about him and into him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Kellan tightened his grip on Nurisha’s shoulders and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I brought you into self awareness out of ignorance and narcissism. I will not allow you to be destroyed by the same.” Kellan felt the power coursing through him as he heaved her far into the air while creating a gravity bubble around her. The two combined, causing her glowing form to be softly de
posited on the far shore even as the wide ribbon of red energy struck Kellan. He shuddered at the shock.

  He felt the energy course around him and through him. He felt it entering his mouth, eyes, and ears. There was something familiar about this new power—something that reminded him of the first time Micah had taught him to embrace the energy that fueled him. Yet, there was much different as well. This power was wild where his was structured. This power strained to rend and ruin, while his sought to mend and preserve.

  Kellan doubled over in pain, letting out a primal scream as the two powers warred within him. In some distant corner of his mind, Kellan observed himself dispassionately, assembling facts, looking for patterns, asking questions, making hypotheses. It’s what his mind did whether he was peacefully lying on a beach or in what felt like the fight of his life. This small, seldom acknowledged, piece of his mind is what first had made Kellan a person of interest to an Angel who sought a successor. This was the essence of what it meant to be Kellan Thorne. This quiet corner asserted itself now and, with deliberation, and he felt his mind divide in two. As sometimes happens in dreams, Kellan pictured himself looking down on the scene where he struggled waist deep in the raging green torrent while red energy played about his body. Just in front him, stood another Kellan, although somewhat stylized, with sharply angled ears. His other self stood calmly atop the flowing energy, wearing a blue shirt, black pants, and black boots. He held a small device which he pointed at Kellan and then looked down, brow furrowed.

  “You must stop the fighting,” this other Kellan said.

  “Who are you?” Kellan asked, and to his surprise the other Kellan glanced upward to where Kellan seemed to be viewing the exchange, and arched one eyebrow.

  “Fascinating,” said the other Kellan as it pointed its device into the air.

  “It’s not fucking fascinating. Who are you and why are you cosplaying Mr. Spock?”

  The other Kellan seemed to sigh. “I am the personification of your intellect fueled, of course, by your rather prodigious eidetic gift. As for appearing as Spock, I am as you made me, although I do believe the representation apt. All of that is of little import. You must stop the fighting.”

  “What fighting? I’m not fighting anyone. I don’t understand what you are talking about,” yelled Kellan with as much frustration as he could project.

  Vulcan-Kellan sighed again, this time visibly, and tapped on what was now obviously a vintage 1960s era Tricorder, then turned it so its small screen faced where the other portion of Kellan’s splintered mind was taking in the scene. On it he saw two animated puppets attacking one another, each from their respective fortresses. The first had flaming red hair and threw endless balls of fire; the other had hair made entirely of blue snow and met the attack with torrents of ice, which simply resulted in massive clouds of steam as the two forces met.

  “Seriously?” asked Kellan of the vulcan, “A Rankin-Bass cartoon is how you choose to explain this to me? The Miser Brothers?”

  Vulcan Kellan simply stared up, impassively. “I was trying to keep it simple for you. We don’t have much time for you to figure out anything complex. You must stop them from fighting. The Chaotic and Order forces cannot coexist in their raw forms. You must change that form into something stable and you must do it.” Vulcan Kellan paused, turning his tricorder back towards himself, tapping. “In about 30 seconds or the two forces will tear your body apart. You will die. This place will vanish. Nurisha will die. There is a seventy-five percent chance the resulting energy would destroy the place where your physical body currently stands. In that eventuality, both Michael and Raphael would also be destroyed. There is slightly less than a seven percent chance the unstructured release of all that unbalanced energy could create a universal atomic cascade at the sub quantum-quark level.” The Vulcan seemed to catch himself. “Sorry, let me dumb that down for you. There would be a second Big Bang, destroying all life as you know it.”

  “Holy fuck!”

  “Yes. Twenty seconds.”

  “Ok, you pointy-eared bastard,” yelled Kellan, feeling his perspective shift so he was now staring directly at the Spock version of himself, “How do I make them stop fighting?”

  “Channel them both. Energy cannot be destroyed. Those energies cannot exist together. You must force them to change form. Ten Seconds.”

  “How?!?”

  “Isn’t that obvious? You must create.” With that, Vulcan Kellan unhooked a small device at his waist and Kellan heard it chirp as it was flipped open, “Kellan to Enterprise. One to beam up.” A split second later as his form began to sparkle and fade, he raised one hand, fingers outspread. “Good Luck. Live Long and Prosper.”

  Kellan closed his eyes, opening himself to both energies, and feeling the familiar warmth as Order filled him. Chaos continued to rage, flashing and striking him like the sharpened end of a many tailed whip. He called to it, coaxed it, pleaded with it, but still the power ignored his will. Kellan felt the anger rising in him. He would not fail this way. “Obey me!” he screamed, stretching out his left hand, palm up. He felt the chaotic storm pause, then growled again, “Obey…me!” This time he felt all the energy flow out from him and gathered in his open palm like a blazing red sun, slowly rotating. As he moved to place his empty right hand palm up, Kellan felt the chaotic power begin to break apart. He glared at it.

  “Remain!” It immediately subsided and silently rotated. Again Kellan lifted his right palm, and green energy flowed effortlessly up from the river, through him, and gathered as a rotating sphere.

  Kellan stared at the two, as countless memories skittered across his consciousness gathered throughout his life from books, lectures, sermons, and conversations. He slowly brought his two hands together and felt the pressure like two opposing magnets. The respective energies fought his will to remain, but Kellan’s will was inviolate. The young Sentinel spoke directly to the opposing forces of chaos and order he held in his hands. “Creation is order and chaos, preservation and ruin, life and death. It cannot exist without both and only with both can it be formed. By my will, I bring these forces together. By my will, I channel them!”

  Kellan slammed both hands together and the two energies fused into a gleaming violet ball of sparkling energy. Then they exploded, ripping Kellan from his inner world to find both Raphael and Michael stepping backwards from him, hands up, shielding their eyes. Power flooded from the young Sentinel in waves as he held both hands outward toward the throne on which rested Asmodeus’ corpse. Violet cords of power ripped through the body, shattered the throne, and buried themselves into the rocky ground. Kellan twisted his hands, placing them together as if making a bowl and lifted upward, arms shaking with the effort. Rocks shattered, flying upward as the ground split open to reveal a massive tree trunk sprouting from the hole. It thickened as it rose becoming so broad that ten men with arms outstreached could not embrace its trunk, and at least one hundred feet high. Michael and Raphael looked up in undisguised awe as foliage continued to appear and blossom, even as the energy ceased its flow and Kellan sank to his knees.

  “I’m scared, Oren” came a small voice, causing Kellan to look up.

  “Me too,” came a second voice, “Where’s mama?” The voices drifted down within the lowest branches of the massive tree Kellan had created.

  Finally, a third voice joined the other two. “Nissa, Shaylee, I need you to be brave. I will find mama. Just let me get us down from here.”

  Kellan slowly stood and looked at the towering tree. Its dark brown bark seemed to gleam with interlacing scales that were almost iridescent. Graceful branches both thick and thin spread upward and out each covered with a multitude of leaves the like of which Kellan had never seen. They all were shaped like a five pointed star and shimmered purple in the even light of creation’s workroom.

  A young boy swung down from one of the lowest branches and landed on the ground with a thud. He started to brush himself off, then froze as he took in the sight of Kellan, Michael, a
nd Raphael. The latter two had neither moved nor spoken. Kellan raised both hands and crouched down, trying to make the boy at ease.

  “Hi Oren. I’m Kellan. Don’t be scared. No one is going to hurt you. Are Nissa and Shaylee your sisters?”

  Oren squinted at the three of them and brushed the dirt from his pants. He had sandy brown hair, high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and seemed to be about eight years old. “I’m not scared of anything,” he said, squaring his shoulders.

  Kellan rose smiling. “Really? Well, you’re certainly braver than me, because I’m pretty much terrified all the time lately. Maybe you can give me some lessons in courage.”

  Oren couldn’t tell if he was being made fun of, but gave a shy smile back.

  “How about we get your sisters down from there and then find your Mother?”

  Oren brightened visibly. “You know my Mother? You know where she is?”

  From within the leaves came two voices as one, “Can you bring mama here now?”

  Kellan laughed and cupped his hands to mouth and yelled, “Hello there, tree faeries. Yes, I know you mother and will try and find her while my friends help you two down. You do want to come down, don’t you?”

  “Yes please,” came the chorus.

  “Well,” said Kellan with mock impatience as he waved to Raphael and Michael, “Make yourselves useful. I need to find their mother.”

  Neither Angel moved.

  “Go!” yelled Kellan, and Raphael flinched while Michael moved to grasp the hilt of is sword. Kellan looked at him. “Really, Michael?”

  “You,” began Michael, “You created and that—”

  “Later. Please. Help those children. I have a promise to keep.”

  Kellan walked away from the tree and rested on the cracked stone bench. He closed his yes and concentrated, trying to secure his will to the image of the person he sought. He drew deep from the river of his power and felt his eyes warm as a portal rotated into view. Through it, Kellan could see the night sky and a dirt road with a lone traveler. She stood staring at him across distance, time, and realms. Kellan felt the smile spread across his face and tears blossomed in her eyes as she started running toward him. She leaped through the portal and Kellan caught her, keeping her steady on the rock strewn landscape.