A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2)

by Martin, CJ

  “We can ask. We need to do something to remove Kaileen’s eyes from our gates.”

  Ask? Sam wondered as he followed the old man to the kitchen window. Marcus was staring outside without moving. As Sam moved to his side, he noticed Marcus’ eyes were closed and his mouth was moving as if moaning a silent prayer.

  “Gather the others,” Marcus said aloud without opening his eyes or turning his attention from the window. “Vered, take Amato and stay with Catherine. Notify one of us should she tell you anything.” Vered and Amato immediately obeyed. “Sam, find Ian and tell him that he may use the weapons, but to wait for my signal.”

  “I don’t think Ian has returned yet from the cavern,” said Sam.

  Marcus opened his eyes wide. It had been several hours. “Look for him anyway and get everyone those weapons.”

  Sam nodded and left not sure what weapons Marcus was referring to. He soon found out. Suteko had turned and marched to a cabinet Sam hadn’t noticed was even there. Opening the cabinet, she grabbed two Browning rifles and handed them to the new Temporal, Sasha and Bilai. She gave a rifle and a box of ammunition to Sam who had just stood there watching in a daze. Marcus came marching by, grabbed a rifle, and said, “Shotguns would be better. But we make do with what he have.” He shouted for everyone to hear, “Let’s go hunting!”

  Sam stood there dumbfounded. He hadn’t shot a rifle in twenty-five years—not since his Boy Scout days when he earned his Rifle Shooting merit badge.

  “Come on, boy,” said Marcus after seeing Sam’s halted look. “It’s easy. Just point this end at the bad bird and kill it!”

  Marcus flipped open the lid of the box that Sam was holding and grabbed a few rounds. Pressing a release on a rifle, he snapped them into the clip.

  “There—you’re set. Don’t forget the safety.”

  “R...right.”

  Sam shook his head and left to find Ian. Ian’s room was empty. He wasn’t in the communal room or the kitchen. Sam closed his eyes and concentrated on Ian’s signature. He didn’t sense that he was in the house. He didn’t sense Ian was anywhere. As with Dr. Bracker, Sam couldn’t lock onto Ian’s signature no matter how wide he threw his search. Thinking back, Sam was certain he hadn’t seen Ian return from the caves.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, he returned to the front room. Marcus had moved away from the window and had just finished a phone call.

  “They are here.” Marcus stuffed a handful of bullets into his pocket and seeing Sasha, he said, “Please stay with Vered and report immediately should she have something to say from Catherine. We may need your medical skills later.” He turned to everyone else and said, “The military will set up a perimeter. The last thing we want is a few curious sightseers in the line of fire once the fight begins. There are about a dozen eagles and a few hundred little ones on our side. Let’s give aid to the good guys.” He stopped momentarily to add, “That is, good birds. The sparrows are on our side. If they don’t scare the eagles away, shoot to scare. If that doesn’t work, shoot to kill.”

  As Marcus, Sam, Suteko, Maro, and the recently arrived Temporal, Yehi, Bilai, and William stepped outside, they could already hear intense squawking. Looking up, a dozen tiny sparrows had engaged one large eagle that had been quietly hiding deep within the foliage of a large oak, forcing it out.

  “Sam, where’s Ian? I thought he would enjoy this.”

  “I don’t know. I checked everywhere. He isn’t here. I don’t sense his location at all.”

  Marcus let out a grumble and turned his attention back to the birds now making very loud sounds all around them.

  All birds were instantly in flight. It was as if the spies had anticipated an attack and had already planned their counter moves. They were soon grouped in pairs and each pair worked together to fell sparrows and defend the other’s blind spot. A dozen sparrows were taken out, it seemed, with each slash of an eagle’s mighty talons. The battle would be short if nothing could be done from the ground. One of the eagles in a pair would choose a target and fly straight for it while the other attacked from the side, pecking and using its talons to rip feather and flesh.

  “Shoot to kill! If you have the shot, take it!”

  Sam noticed the others had rifles pointing to the sky. Sam heard several shots which brought his attention back to the moment. He raised his own rifle and pulled the trigger. The safety. His thumb fumbled until the red dot disappeared.

  “Remember don’t shoot unless you have a clear shot. Only the eagles!”

  As one eagle dropped a dead sparrow and prepared for a better striking angle, Marcus let out a shot, instantly killing it. The birds were moving too fast and the darkening evening sky made it maddeningly difficult for Sam to be sure of a shot.

  The eagles were determined. A multitude of gunshots later, none of the spies had fled, but the sparrows, hurt and out-powered, were fleeing in droves. Marcus wondered if Sam had been right. The eagles, with blood in their eyes, seemed possessed and utterly unconcerned of their fate. Perhaps Kaileen had somehow learned to control them.

  Several times, Sam thought he had an enemy bird in his sights, but failed to pull the trigger. Was it his poor marksmanship preventing him from firing? Or his nerves? The safety was off, but his trigger finger wasn’t quite nervous enough to pull with the required pressure.

  Then he remembered. Time was on his side. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. He could feel time slow. He would be able to see the birds in his time—slow and easy picking. He heard a loud screech, echoing in his head. It was unlike anything he had heard before. It grew in volume as if it was nearing him. Then Sam realized he had slowed time and the sound of the bird’s cry was modified to the slower flow of time.

  Opening his eyes, he saw a large eagle, wings spread wide, swooping down directly in front of him—directly for him. He had seconds even with his new flow of time to adjust the rifle’s position. He didn’t have time to position the butt of the weapon to his shoulder but he knew he had the shot. Pulling the trigger, he heard the incredibly loud sound of a mighty explosion, slowed to his speed. The expanding gases from within the barrel pushed the round through. Sam watched the bullet irrevocably head toward the incoming bird.

  Then his eyes jerked away from the bird as the kickback slammed into and twisted his shoulder. Feeling the recoil in slow motion was surreal; it caused Sam to lose both his footing and concentration, bringing the flow of time back to normal. The bird instantly dropped a few inches from Sam who was now flat on the ground. The bird was floundering in the dirt. Sam’s shot had missed its heart, but the bullet had torn through its left wing, rendering it flightless, but alive.

  Suteko was at his side in an instant.

  “Are you all right, Sam?” She was panting. “The birds are gone and you seem to have caught one of the spies.”

  Sam had fired only a single shot. He had managed to remove his finger from the trigger guard, but he otherwise kept a death grip on the rifle. Suteko came and relaxed his stressed muscles with her touch.

  Sam still heard loud squawks, but only from the singular bird making circles of pain on the ground. While he was fumbling with shooting this one bird, the rest of the spies had been taken out or scared away.

  “Good work, my boy.” Marcus was smiling. Sam could not help but return the smile. The old man only seemed happy at times when Sam couldn’t possibly understand how a human being could be happy. “You got one of them,” he said as he took a large stick across the eagle’s legs, holding it in place. “Alive!”

  “Someone, go call Vered,” he said, struggling to keep the stick steady.

  Suteko ran inside and quickly reappeared with the Israeli woman.

  “Vered, can you...communicate with it?”

  Vered moved in unsure of the answer. She closed her eyes. After a long pause, she said, “No. I cannot.” Marcus sighed audibly. “But Catherine can and she is calling me to take the spy to her.”

  “Sam,” Marcus said, taking control o
f the situation. “On the bed in my room, there is a heavy blanket. Grab it and wrap this bird in it. If Catherine wants to speak to it, she will speak to it.”

  A minute later, they had the bird in Catherine’s room. It wobbled out from the blanket once set on the ground, but did not resist or try to escape. Catherine was on her back on the bed with her eyes closed.

  “She says it is speaking to her.” Vered’s eyes were as wide as the rest of them. “Catherine says they are coming.”

  “Who is coming?” Marcus asked.

  “She says, they are coming and soon.”

  “What do they want? Do they wish to kill us?”

  “No. They are coming for two of us. Two of the Temporal and...to kill Hikari.”

  Marcus grabbed his cell phone and dialed General Gordon. As the phone was ringing, he asked, “Which two of us?”

  “She says it is unsure,” said Vered, with a horrified look. “There are conflicting orders.”

  His cell redirected to the general’s office secretary who only said he had not been in that day.

  “Ian. Sam—call Ian and tell him to get back here as soon as possible.” Marcus turned back to Catherine and said, “What orders?”

  “She says nothing more. Only that...they are coming.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  They are coming…

  Sam kept mentally repeating those words as he and the others headed outside and into the night. He scanned the skies; his senses searched deep into the earth. There was a light breeze that carried with it the sweet scent of roses. Sam remembered seeing several rose bushes in the garden. It had been remarkably beautiful in the daytime. He shook his head of the pleasant thought and kept the search up. Unlike Nephloc, Perazim would have no tell-tale odor. No one else would be able to look for the attackers. It was up to Sam to warn the others of the attack.

  How many?

  Four Nephloc had been easily defeated, but he couldn’t know how many were coming. And the Perazim Ian and Maro encountered were powerful. Neither his nose nor his gift could sense any Nephloc presence, but he knew Kaileen had learned to mask her signature. It would only be a matter of time before others could learn to do the same.

  Sam looked around. Suteko, Marcus, William, and Maro were with him, adjusting their eyes to the dark and searching for any movement. Bilai and Yehi were on the other side of a large oak. One of the sparrows that had aided them remained and was perched atop a bench that lined the pathway. Where is Ian?

  “Steady boys. Remember, if there are Perazim, shoot a hole through their chests and then fill the space where their hearts used to be with any object you can find—dirt, rocks—just throw anything. The crystals are easily disturbed, but they soon return. Sam, anything?” Marcus said in a surprisingly calm voice.

  Shaking his mind from any distraction, Sam gripped his rifle and clamped his eyes shut to acclimate them to the darkness and to aid concentration. He heard crickets; the lone sparrow was silent, watching. The sound of nature mixed with military traffic on a road a quarter of a mile away. He sensed no evil presence—not yet. Even still, something beyond his gift made him believe the bird: they were coming.

  Opening his eyes, he could see more detail of the trees lining the path ahead of them. Sam watched Marcus stomp the earth. It was soft, slightly muddy from a light afternoon drizzle. This could get messy.

  They were several miles outside the city. The closest street was a few hundred yards away and was only lit by a single sodium-vapor lamp at the entrance and a dozen or so dim solar powered garden lights on either side of the path. These light sources illuminated little more than the two benches and shrubbery that lined the borders of the property.

  Behind them, the beautiful Victorian-style house provided most of its light via the two bulbs on the porch. As long as the enemy came from the front, the Temporal would have enough light to see them clearly, but leading up to their location was a large and poorly-lit space from which the enemy could easily use for cover.

  Sam’s feet suddenly lost their footing. He caught himself as he fell to the earth, sticking his hand into the dirt before him and using the butt of the rifle to right himself. “The earth,” said Sam looking back at the other Temporal. “They are coming from underground!”

  Just as he finished speaking, a blast of force from deep underneath Sam rammed its way, breaking through ground, sending dirt, grass, and Sam flying toward the house. By the time Sam realized what had happened, the door and half of the porch were destroyed. He saw his rifle at least ten feet away from the spot he had been standing only a second before. The delicate woodwork of the decorative porch fencing was in pieces. He had failed to sense the enemy’s presence before it was too late. Sam grabbed a particularly sharp looking piece of wood and leapt from the porch without much thought.

  As he left the flooring, his eyes fell upon two dark figures directly in front of him. Perazim. Sam took a moment to slow time. He had had great practice, and while not as skilled as Suteko, he could always affect the flow of time—at least from his perspective. His two assailants slowed and then stopped as he touched ground. Sam slashed the sharp wood into one of their motionless legs.

  The other Perazim was holding a knife with a ten-inch blade. Sam quickly grabbed the weapon and smiled. Rarely had things gone so easily. Just as he was completing his thought, the Perazim he had slashed, began to move. It was as if the creature had been frozen and was thawing.

  It too could manipulate its flow of time.

  Sam immediately pulled his arm back, intending to thrust the dagger into the heart of the now animated Perazim—or where its heart had once been. As the motion of his arm’s thrust pushed forward, the Perazim blurred. An instant later, a dark gloved hand had a tight grip on Sam’s wrist, making it impossible for Sam to complete his thrust. The dark hand twisted its hold. Sam heard a thud which he took to be his dropped knife.

  Sam cried out in pain; the Perazim pulled Sam closer and let out a guttural, low-pitched scream an inch from Sam’s ear. That sound canceled out any of Sam’s own screaming. The feeling of wet spittle and mucus splashed Sam’s face, waking him to the reality of this nightmare.

  The Perazim’s vice-grip was mind-numbingly strong—would his hand be cut in two? Sam was so distracted by the pain that he didn’t see his enemy’s other hand make contact with his chest. As the Perazim released its grip, Sam found himself once again halfway in the porch. This time, he had landed on a protruded plank, impaling his left thigh with several inches of splintered wood.

  Again, as Sam regained his senses, he saw the same two Perazim heading toward him. One had a slight limp from Sam’s attack, but even that didn’t slow it down. Sam’s eyes were blurred and burning with salty tears and sweat. He tasted the coppery flavor of blood filling his mouth.

  With a loud cry, Sam wrenched his leg free of the now crimson wood. He had to keep moving, but as he leapt to his feet, his hurt leg gave way, and Sam found himself back on the porch with his cheek pricked by the rough coir fibers of a well-trodden doormat. Sam saw the two dark figures continuing their approach, but from a sideways vantage point.

  Then, just as they passed under the porch light, they stopped. He noted their faces were stale and without character like a Hollywood actress after one too many Botox treatments. But they had faces. They had no stench like the Nephloc. They had not been scared away with the ease of a Nephloc. Theirs was a true strength and not a weak nature masked by a frightful facade.

  “The High Lady wants you,” said one of them in a clear, but dark voice.

  “Surrender now and you will live,” said the other, completing the thought.

  Sam looked to his right. Marcus had one of the Perazim on the ground. His hand was on the creature’s chest, somehow paralyzing it. To his left, Maro was wielding a plank from one of the benches. He was having success smashing one end of the plank into the head of a dazed Perazim. They were all doing much better than he was.

  “Do you wish to save your friends?” />
  The two Perazim seemed oddly serene as they stood motionless in the midst of a heated the battle, a battle they could be losing.

  “Your friends will be spared if you but come with us.”

  “They seem to be doing fine,” said Sam in a defiant but unsure voice.

  “It is simply a matter of time, Temporal.”

  “What do you want from me?” Sam asked in little more than a whisper. He was outmatched and injured. He was unsure if he could even stand but began to try.

  “It is of no concern to us. Choose death if you wish,” said one of the Perazim as he lifted the sword from his side.

  Then, through the space between the two dark figures, he saw Suteko thrown to the ground. An assailant was instantly on top of her, mercilessly tearing into her.

  “No!” Sam cried in a voice loud enough to startle even the Perazim. With the cry, Sam saw white light fill his vision. The light fluctuated with his emotions, growing stronger and brighter with his anger.

  That anger burned clear through his body, Sam saw things in an entirely new way. The previously dark area was now as bright as day, brighter even. There were no shadows to mask revelations. This was no natural light, either. In the light and in the colors there was information. His vision was much like seeing the world’s Temporal while in deepest concentration, but now he wasn’t experiencing a vision or dream; the reality of the world was somehow amplified through these colors, through the lens of Sam’s Temporal gift.

  More than light, there was motion. The environment around him had changed. He was no longer lying on the broken porch. His two assailants were no longer standing before him. Even the creature that was on Suteko had rolled off her and was reeling in pain.

  Sam looked down at his hands. From out of his fingernails shot out brilliant light. It looked horrific, but there was no pain. Rather, it was a pleasant feeling like that of holding one’s cold-to-the-bone hands under warm running water. The light pouring out was pure white and thick, opaque—for the first few inches, Sam couldn’t see through it. Then, it became a translucent cloud fanning out into the distance.