by Troy Hooker
“Not too fond of your parents, I see,” Sayvon said sadly. “What does your … foster mother do to embarrass you?”
Sam sighed. He knew he had spoken too quickly about Sylvia. Maybe she would just feel sorry enough to drop it.
“We were at a dinner party once, but my foster mother had a little too much to drink that night and ended up throwing up on another Senator’s wife’s shoe during dessert.”
“Wow, that really happened?” She forced back a smile.
He decided not to hold back from her. It was, after all, only the people he had lived with for the last fifteen years without any indication that he was anything more to them than a charity case or a tax deduction. His contempt ran deeper for them the older he got.
“If you knew my parents, you wouldn’t have been surprised.”
She stopped suddenly and turned on her heels to face him directly, staring deep into his eyes the same way Emma did. For a moment he felt almost uncomfortable.
“That’s too bad, Sam. Everyone should have parents who care about them.”
He thought about what she said, but only after she had turned away from looking at him. For some reason he just couldn’t seem to muster up words when she (or any girl for that matter) was face to face with him. It was almost as if he was frozen in time—a slave to her words.
What she was saying about his parents—or any family for that matter—was true. Perhaps they did care about him and just couldn’t show it. Perhaps they didn’t know how.
He had felt it his entire life though, like something wasn’t a fit. Perhaps it was that he wasn’t a flesh and blood Forrester, or perhaps they were just too caught up in their power-hungry politics to care about raising a child, but either way, the deep, caring, passionate emotion that was easily read on any real parent’s face was not evident in his home.
It was confirmed the day he finally convinced Sylvia to take him to the park. He was six years old, and he remembered every detail—how he dug in the sandbox for the first time in his life. He remembered watching another mother who had taken her shoes off and was helping her son to bury her feet in the sand. He then glanced over to his own foster mother, who sipped cognac from a bottle she had kept in her purse, passing it discretely to her other big-haired friend whom she had forced to join her. Neither of them paid him any mind. He could have walked off into traffic and no one would have noticed.
Since that day, the jealously grew inside of him, and gradually took him over. The Sterlings were the complete opposite of Sylvia and Phillip. They were loving and attentive.
Since arriving in Lior, he had occasionally thought about them as his own parents—and he would be “Sam Sterling.” But there was no use fantasizing about such things. Besides, it would have made Emma his sister.
Sayvon led them through the smaller common room until they came to a small plain door with the words RESTRICTED etched on a small plaque on the wall. She fumbled through her set of keys until she found the one she wanted, then held it up to the brass door handle, where a small beam of light shot from the tip and unlocked the door with a loud click.
Inside was a large round room that domed at the top. The center of the room was empty, except for a thin trickle of blue light that passed lazily up through the floor to the ceiling.
“What is this place?” Sam asked her in the dim light.
“It’s a sanctuary for Seers,” she whispered, “for those with the gifts to see things that are happening.”
“Like prophets.”
“Well, no, actually. Seers can only see events as they take place,” she whispered. “There hasn’t been a prophet in Lior for a very long time.”
There seemed to be no one in the room at first, but then they saw a small man with a long white beard hobbling over to the center of the room, where he closed his eyes and held his feeble hands out to the light in front of him in silence.
Sam watched the man as he stood unmovable in the center of the room for nearly a minute. Then he began mouthing something passionately as the light passed between his fingers, pulsating and quickly intensifying.
“What is he doing?”
She pulled him suddenly out of the room into the corridor once again to escape the now blinding light. Then she held her finger up to her lips, whispering, “He sees something that is of importance to record.”
Sam was mesmerized by the light that spilled out into the corridor. The idea of seeing visions as they occurred was fascinating, even if completely unrealistic.
“Well, here they watch a few different things—parts of the forest, the regions, and some of Creation. Anything that contains a certain intensity of Darkness in it, they record, but,” she tossed her hair to one side, and the strong scent of lilacs brushed past his nose, “there haven’t been any major incidents since the Old City fell.”
He thought about what the Chancellor said about what he saw in the forest that night. Wouldn’t they see that happen? He knew Talister didn’t want him discussing it, but he was tempted to confide in Sayvon.
“So can they see people on Earth?”
Sayvon smiled, leading them away from the Seer chamber for fear of disturbing those inside.
“Sort of, yes. They help the Protector’s office watch traffic through the gates to make sure the Dark Forces don’t—”
“Attack Descendants, yeah, I heard,” he answered her quickly.
She sighed and stopped in the middle of the corridor, which was now significantly darker with the Seer chamber nearly out of sight.
“Sam, you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I only brought you here so you could see.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” he started, feeling suddenly sorry for having offended her. “I have just spent my whole life believing none of this existed, that’s all. Now it’s all here, and it’s just so … crazy.”
Sayvon smiled and nodded.
“It’s okay, I get it. I couldn’t expect you just to walk into all this believing everything right away.”
She coaxed him down another set of stone steps to a balcony that overlooked a large rectangular room with numerous steel weapons lacing the walls. Large wooden columns spaced evenly throughout the room sported large chunks missing from the beams, an obvious sign of swordplay.
“This was the main training room for the Sons of Light before they moved out of the City,” she said. “They are the best of the best with their gifts, the warriors of our people that fight when the Protectors are overwhelmed.”
Even though it was empty and no one was training, the room was still impressive. He wondered what it would look like in full training mode.
“You will see them tonight,” she said brightly, her hair gleaming from the sunlight flooding into the room. “The newest members are being inducted.”
“At the Light games,” Sam added.
“Yes. And my father will be conducting the ceremony, since he was once one of them,” she said proudly, pulling him once again from his trance into a darkened hallway.
After unlocking the next entrance, Sayvon braced herself against the wall to reveal a door that was thicker than Sam had ever seen, and it took both of them several tries to prop it open. As they did, a loud hissing could be heard as pressurized air escaped the interior. Immediately, a blinding blue beam poured into the corridor, forcing them both to shield their eyes until they had adjusted to the brightness.
Past the door, at the bottom of a stone stairwell lay a monstrous cavern filled with a pool of gleaming blue liquid, which seemed to move and ebb as though something rippled just beneath the surface. A continual stream of the liquid was slowly drifting upward like a lazy stream toward the cavern ceiling, casting reflections of light around the room on the walls like a million candles of brilliant blue light. Shielding his eyes, Sam watched the liquid light disappear into the cavern ceiling, where it no doubt s
upplied all of the City Center with its life.
“Lapiz Laz—” he stopped, forgetting the word, even though Gus had said it a hundred times.
“Lazuli,” she corrected him.
They walked to the edge of the pool where the blue liquid suddenly bubbled furiously before bursting into pockets of light, then joined the stream that floated toward the ceiling above.
“It’s the source for the entire city. See the rocks over there?” She pointed to the other side of the pool where massive boulders held deep veins of shining blue rock. “After the Descendants’ first city burned, the old Lior City, we weren’t sure if we would ever find another source. But then they found this place. It was nearly twice the size of the pool in the old City.”
She led him around the edge of the pool where it gave way to a peninsula of marbled blue stone, walking onto the narrow ledge until it nearly surround them. The light was so incredible, so intense, and yet it still calmed him. He was instantly transported back to the night when they crossed through the gate into Lior—the warm feeling of the light as it seemed to enter his very soul. The light made him feel alive, like someone was reaching inside him and manipulating his every sense.
“SAM!” she yanked suddenly on his arm. “Don’t touch it!”
He looked down in front of him where he was kneeled at the edge of the pool, his hand outstretched toward the blue light. He had no idea how he got there.
She pulled him back up to her.
“You can’t touch it,” she said, panting heavily. “It’s too high of light concentration. It would send any Descendant into shock.”
She led him up the stairs from the pool of Lazuli and down the long corridor into the smaller common room overlooking the old Sons of Light training hall, to a small bench where she forced him to sit for a while to allow the effects of the Lazuli to wear off.
The feeling was strange, wonderful and warm, like the moment he walked through the arch …
But there was another feeling that was evident, deep down and subtle, along with the exhilaration from the Lazuli. It was an odd feeling, and not a pleasant one. Almost like the feeling one received when experiencing pain.
“Watch this,” she winked suddenly and strode to a blue circle etched into the floor of the common room. Then, putting her hands, to her sides, she closed her eyes. Suddenly, the circle sprang to life, and blue liquid illuminated upward to the ceiling from the floor, creating a stunning tube of Lazuli light. Then Sayvon herself shot upward from the circle and disappeared into the ceiling above, leaving no trace of herself or the cylindrical light that carried her.
Looking around the room, he noticed six other circles dotting the marble floor that were completely unnoticeable when they first entered. Each had a similar circle in the ceiling directly above them.
Now alone, he wondered if he should follow her and attempt to use the tube. He figured he had been unsuccessful in the woods attempting to manipulate the light, but he couldn’t be sure because of the old woman’s interruption.
Centering himself in one of the circles, he closed his eyes as she did and waited for something to happen.
Suddenly, the hole in the ceiling burst into a bright blue glow and the light met the floor with a cylindrical splash. Sayvon descended gracefully through the middle of the tube, her hands at her side and her eyes still closed.
“How did you do that?” Sam rushed to her side when the light finally flickered and disappeared from around her form.
“It’s a Lightway of sorts,” she said, stepping out of the circle and stroking her hair. “One of the inventors here in Lior created it after getting tired of going up and down all the stairs.”
“Like the light thing that beamed into Lior when we came into the City,” Sam said, which drew an instant confused look from Sayvon.
“That’s strange,” she said suddenly.
“You’ve never traveled the Lightway?”
“No, its just that no one would have traveled the Lightway during the Festival,” she scrunched her nose, then smiled again quickly. “Never mind.”
Sam still found himself staring at the now lifeless circles as if they would magically start glowing again, but they remained quiet.
“You have nothing like light travel in Creation, do you?”
“No, not really. Just escalators and elevators. Nothing like this,” he told her. “Pretty boring, right?”
“No!” her eyes grew suddenly wide. “Creation is wonderful! There are airplanes, and novels, and ice cream. It’s like a fairy tale adventure, from all the books I’ve read anyway.”
“You would be the first to think that,” he joked. “Don’t forget to add famine and disease to that list.”
She squinted at him queerly as if trying to determine whether or not he was making fun of her. To be fair, he was being a bit sarcastic. Perhaps being around Lillia brought it out in him.
“Well I still think it’s pretty great.”
Sam watched her silky brown hair turn the slightest bit blue as an extra large stream of light snaked up the wall.
“You haven’t been to Creation, well, Earth, have you?” he asked, hoping he wouldn’t offend her more by prying.
She seemed truly discouraged with the question.
“No. I haven’t. My father won’t let me.”
“Oh, well, it’s not that much to see any—”
“He says I am too young, and Earth is too dangerous for Descendants. It’s really ridiculous I think. We have way more harmful things here than they do,” she huffed.
“You really want to go, don’t you?”
“Yes. And I wish someone would have the courage to take me. I’m not afraid.”
“Well, like I said. It’s not much to see.”
“I’m just tired of being treated like a child. I know I’m still underage, but I know many who go all the time.”
Why did she want to see Earth so badly? What was so interesting?
“Well, I would rather be here,” he said.
She looked discouraged again.
“That’s what everyone says.”
“It’s not all that great, really.”
Sayvon sighed deeply, then put a hand on his arm, sending momentary shivers up his back.
“Sorry to complain. That wasn’t what I wanted to show you. I saved the best for last. Come with me.”
She led him out of the common room and up a set of stairs, and another, and yet still another and another until it seemed like they had reached the roof of the City Center.
After climbing a final set of smaller stairs and reaching another carved wooden door, Sam realized that indeed they had reached the top of the City Center, as only the spires could be seen outside the small stairwell window.
Sayvon inserted the largest key into the hidden hole of the tower. Through the stone arches surrounding it’s interior, the tower overlooked nearly all of Lior City, including the City Center and all four halls. The forest from where they came and the forest near the sea where Sam had met the old lady was in front of them, and today, a dull mist hung over both. The sun was just beginning to dip lower in the sky, signaling that day was on its last few hours.
Inside the tower also was a room set into the floor, much like the amphitheater, where nine simple chairs formed a semicircle in the round room with a small pedestal in the center. A curious looking holographic screen emerged from the pedestal as soon as the two entered the circle.
“What is this place?” Sam said as he sat carefully in one of the chairs after Sayvon nodded that he could do so.
“It’s the monitoring tower for all of Lior,” she said, leaning in and speaking with a lower tone. “If it weren’t the day of the Council meeting or of the ceremony tonight, I wouldn’t be able to show you.”
“This you will want to see,” she redirected. From her pocket she withdrew
her set of keys and pointed one of the longer keys at the pedestal screen. Immediately it sprang to life, spraying eerie images throughout it like tiny holograms moving about the air.
Sayvon pointed the key at one of the holograms and it immediately enlarged before them. From what little he could see of the image, it was a cave, dark and silent with the exception of a small flickering light in the corner. Eerily, a dark figure passed in front of the light and seemed to glance momentarily toward the two young people watching the hologram.
Then, as if suddenly aware they were being watched, three disturbing images in the cavern came alive, manifesting themselves into dark, hollow forms.
“Who—?” Sam watched, fascinated as each of the forms seemed to writhe in agony as if bound in pain with imaginary chains.
“Who—are they?”
“This is a prison reserved for the four First Lords of the Dark,” she said quietly, and for a moment, Sam wondered if the images could hear them.
“They are the most dangerous of the Dark Watchers, and the original fallen Watchers.”
She pointed at one figure that stood shorter than the others while he twisted and turned painfully as if being tortured.
“That one is Yaren, Lord of Fear. He has forced and coerced many Descendants into becoming Metim simply by terrorizing them.”
“What about that one?” Sam peered at the tall, hooded figure that seemed to take on the distinct appearance of an especially dark thundercloud. His form did not seem to mind the pain as he clawed at the cavern wall, but almost seemed to enjoy it in an eerie way.
“Sar Sehrah, the Storm Lord. He is the most powerful one of the three.”
The Storm Lord … He remembered the conversation between Cooley and Mr. Sterling when they first arrived in Lior. From what he could hear from eavesdropping on the two, Mr. Sterling had concerns that the storm in White Pine the day they left could have been caused by the Dark Lord in front of him.
