The 49th Mystic

by Ted Dekker

  Among my people . . .

  “My power doesn’t work like that,” I said. “There are way too many guards above our heads, regardless.”

  “You can see in the dark, they can’t.”

  “I’m only a Mystic, not a warrior!”

  “You’re forgetting, I’ve seen you move. And you’re forgetting who I am. The only reason they took me was because I was distracted by you. If we take them off guard—”

  “No.”

  As if on cue, the outer dungeon gate squealed, and we both turned to the sound of boots. Many boots.

  “Torches,” he whispered. “Are you sure? If the opportunity—”

  “I’m sure. Not like this.”

  The boots grew louder.

  “I fear they’ll separate us. It’s what I would do. Aaron’s accomplished his objective in forcing me to see his resolve.”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to me, and the moment Jacob said it, his fear became mine. I couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. He had to be wrong! Surely . . .

  Keys rattled. The door was thrown wide. Several quick clicks told me there were eight of them, two torches. So many?

  “Out!”

  “To where?” Jacob demanded.

  The guard spat. “Not you. The Mystic.”

  Jacob stepped forward, pushing me back with his arm. “To where? She’s with me.”

  One of them chuckled. “I didn’t know Horde mated with Albino heretics in the—”

  “Shut it, Borland!” To Jacob: “If you suffer any delusion that she’s with you, Scabs are denser than I thought. You’re both with Aaron, to do with as he pleases. You stay. She goes. Don’t make me say it again.”

  I stepped forward, easing his arm down. “It’s okay, Jacob. I’ll go.”

  “Rachelle, I beg you . . .”

  “We’re their guests. And so we honor them. There’s nothing else we can do,” I said bravely. But I wasn’t so brave. And there was something I could do. Something I had to do.

  I turned and put my arms around his muscled body and pressed my face against his chest. “Stay strong, son of Qurong. Remember everything I’ve told you. Remember my heart for you.”

  He held me awkwardly. “And mine for you,” he whispered.

  “Are you deaf?” the guard snarled.

  “I swear, if you harm one more hair on her body,” Jacob growled, “I will appeal to the fangs of Teeleh himself and unleash terrible suffering on all that is Elyonite!”

  “No, Jacob,” I said, lifting my face and touching his with my hand. “Not like that.”

  “Don’t let them break you.” His voice was urgent. “Never give up hope. I’ll come.”

  He said it as if he knew more than I about what might happen to me. Did he?

  “Of course,” I said. “Never.”

  I said it with as much courage as I could manage, but my breath was coming hard as I turned from Jacob and surrendered myself to my captors. My heart was pounding as they slammed the cage shut and led me down the corridor. My skin was clammy as we descended a long flight of steps deeper into the bowels of their dungeon.

  And when they shoved me into a ten-by-ten hole far beneath their city, my mind began to go numb.

  They left me on the muddy ground to contend with a silence so deep that I could hardly hear, much less see. I was cast out like refuse.

  Blind. And utterly alone.

  34

  AN HOUR passed before the priest returned, an eternity in those endless moments of trying to wake from the nightmare. David kept reminding himself of the truth, and his mind seemed to accept that truth, but his emotions stubbornly followed the evidence fed to them by his five senses. His eyes saw the room, his nose smelled the stench of death, his ears heard the crackling of torches’ burning wicks, his skin felt the biting iron, his tongue tasted bitter sweat on his upper lip.

  But these had to be illusions.

  The dream swallowed him whole, and for the first time, David actually knew what his daughter had suffered her whole life.

  He heard them before he saw them because the entrance was behind his head, out of sight without a painful twisting of his body.

  “You are sure?” a deep voice demanded.

  “There can be no mistake, Lord Qurong,” Ba’al answered. “He’s opened the gateway between the worlds.”

  “The Leedhan.”

  “Yes. Vlad. But there is more. This one claims his daughter was taken by the Elyonites.” A brief pause. “With Jacob.”

  The one named Qurong was silent.

  “I cannot stress the urgency of our situation enough, my lord. We must bring Vlad through at all—”

  “I don’t care about this Vlad of yours! You’re sure my son is in their hands?”

  “Are you so blind?” Ba’al rasped. “The very fate of all Horde now rests in the hands of Vlad, Shadow of Death, instrument of Teeleh!”

  For a few moments no one spoke, and David lay still, hoping that he would wake now, before they did whatever they planned on doing.

  Heavy boots rounded the table, and a large man wearing leather chest armor came into view. Like a Viking warrior, David thought. Gray eyes, though not as light as Ba’al’s. A heavy beard and long, thick dread- locks.

  The commander’s jaw clenched. “He looks like any other Albino to me,” Qurong said. “How do you know you can trust him?”

  “How could any Albino know that Jacob pursues the 49th unless they have access to hidden knowledge?”

  “This whole business of the 49th is madness! If any harm comes to my son, I swear by the name of Teeleh that I will drown you myself.”

  “That madness will be your undoing. Choose your words carefully. We now have no choice but to—”

  “Do not tell me what choice I have!” Qurong snarled, jerking his head to the priest. “I have no desire for a war with the Elyonites.”

  “No, of course not, my lord. And yet they have her.”

  Qurong returned his glare to David. “What else has he confessed?”

  “We haven’t questioned him yet.”

  Nausea rose in David’s gut. Qurong stepped up, grasped David’s cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, and squeezed.

  “What else do you know about my son? Tell me!”

  David tried to shake his head, but the man’s grip prevented even that much. The fingers released him.

  “Nothing, I swear. I . . .” He considered making something up, if only to appease the man. Or recant his statement about Jacob being taken—anything to avoid the various sharp instruments in the room. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know if you release me from these chains.”

  “You’ll tell me what I want to know now or you’ll die in these chains!”

  “I have said everything!” David shouted, furious at his predicament. “This is a dream, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  “That my daughter is dreaming of being taken by a group of fanatics that call themselves Elyonites. That she’s with a warrior named Jacob, who was also taken. That’s all I know.”

  “How could you know this?” the commander demanded.

  “I don’t know this! It’s a dream. She told me her dream and that’s all.”

  “The shadow Leedhan sent him,” Ba’al said, stepping up. “As I said, he calls himself Vlad Smith.”

  Qurong crossed to the book and picked it up, flipped through its pages, and studied something written.

  “So the book is real,” he said.

  “But of course, my lord. As is the other world. And above all, Vlad, who will save us.”

  The commander slapped the book down. “Then prove it. Work your magic. Bring Vlad. Save my son.”

  “I can’t use the book. Its power is available only to the 49th and any humans who’ve crossed.”

  “You’re human!”

  “Yes, but I haven’t crossed.”

  “So then this Vlad can use it if he crosses—”

  “No. V
lad isn’t human. But he can save your son and prevent our subjugation to the Albino lamb if this one will bring him through.” He gestured to David. “This human has the power to use the book.”

  They glared at each other, and David thought Qurong might confront the priest with more than just a stare and harsh words.

  Instead, the commander turned abruptly and walked toward the exit.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but where are you going? We’ve only just—”

  “To hear sense from my warlords rather than witchcraft from you!” Qurong interrupted, turning back. “To wage a holy war of all wars against the Albinos on both sides of the Divide if I must! Isn’t that what you’ve always longed for, priest?”

  “My desire is only to follow Teeleh’s desires. And his is to ensure his supremacy through the failure of the 49th. Only then can we rid the world of all Albinos.”

  Qurong spat to one side. “Then do what you must. Use your knives. Bring Vlad from this other world. But know this: if any harm comes to my son, I will slaughter you and your priests with the same sword that I bloody in holy war.”

  35

  A GUNSHOT woke me. One fired in the distance, but not so far away that it didn’t give me a start. I jerked my head and opened my eyes. Darkness . . . I clicked and saw that I was still on the ground beside the fountain where Vlad had knocked me out.

  In Other Earth, I was destitute and alone.

  In Eden, I was waking to a nightmare.

  I pushed myself to one knee and quickly scanned my surroundings with soft clicks. There was no sign of my father. No sign of anyone that I could see. But the occasional popping of gunfire north of town was all the sign I needed.

  No smoke that I could smell—enough time had passed for the house fire to burn itself out. The distant chirping of birds told me it was morning.

  A chill swept through the valley. My heart was in my throat. Today was the day that my father had assured me would be the end. The end to what?

  To everything, he said.

  What is lost that cannot be lost?

  I didn’t know. Nor did I know what had happened to my father. I had to find out if he’d crossed over, and if so, where he was. What he’d learned. If he was safe, here and there.

  I had to find him!

  Claws of urgency bit deep into my mind as I launched myself into a run, headed north, clicking. Within three strides I was at a full sprint, headed straight toward the gunfire. I’d start my search there.

  There could only be two reasons my father had left me on the ground through the night. Either he was now so far gone that other concerns took precedence over me, or he was incapacitated.

  Why had Shadow Man left me alive? Why not just kill me after I’d written my father into Other Earth with the book? But I already knew . . . His objectives extended far beyond Eden, and he needed me, the 49th, to finish what he’d started here.

  You’re blind, Rachelle. Only a blind girl. He’s doing what he promised to do. You’ve failed already.

  The gunfire was coming from the northeast, the direction of the hospital. And beyond that, the hydroelectric plant. But Linda’s house was my first objective and I flew like the wind, trusting my instincts and sharpened senses. Right up Third Street and then left on Wooded Lane, up the alleyway to the corner of a storehouse across the street from Linda’s house, where I pulled up, breathing hard through my nose.

  I would have expected the church to be Barth’s primary headquarters, but I hadn’t encountered a soul. Many residents would have holed up at the first sound of gunfire, but no guards?

  And my clicks showed me none near Linda’s house.

  I crossed the street in a fast walk and tried the door. Locked.

  A bullet smashed into the wood frame by my hand, and I jerked back with a cry of alarm. Ducking to my right, I threw myself flat behind the hedge that surrounded the house.

  I wasn’t the only one who’d sought refuge behind the bushes. I landed on a body. I tried to scramble off of it, but another bullet crashed through the window above me, pinning me down.

  Breathe, Rachelle. Calm. Trust your instincts.

  The cold body under me had a rifle, I could feel it with my right hand. How many more had been killed?

  Staying low, I yanked the rifle from the man’s death grip, leaned back, and swung the gun’s stock at the window above me with enough force to shatter the glass. I felt for the trigger, shoved the rifle above the hedge, and fired two quick shots in the general direction of the gunfire aimed at me.

  Without hesitation, I released the rifle, dived through the opening I’d created, tucked my body so I would land on my arms, and rolled to my feet inside Linda’s living room, clicking madly. Two shots tore holes in the far wall.

  “Dad!”

  Nothing. The basement.

  I reached the stairwell in five long strides and ducked inside.

  “Linda!”

  Still nothing. I didn’t hear their soft, urgent voices until I was halfway down and around the first landing. Ten more strides and I was there, throwing the door open, clicking without concern of being found blind.

  I startled a dozen forms, several snatching up their weapons. I lifted my hands.

  “It’s me!”

  “Rachelle?” I spun to the sound of Linda’s voice. “You’re . . . Why are you clicking?”

  Whatever attempt they’d made on the armory had clearly succeeded. Everyone in the room seemed to be armed.

  “Where’s my father?”

  “You don’t know?” She sounded confused.

  “Know what?”

  “Where he is?” She turned to the others. “We thought he was with you.” She closed the distance between us, seeming like she wanted to offer me comfort, but I raised my hand to stop her.

  “I haven’t seen him since last night. Tell me what you know.”

  “Why are you clicking? You’re blind again?”

  “We’re all blind, Linda. Just tell me what you know.”

  “We haven’t seen him either, not since he left to create the distraction at the courthouse. What happened?”

  “None of you were there? At the fire?”

  “No. Craig and Randall . . . None of them made it. The rest took the armory. We got the guns.”

  “Where’s Vlad?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “And Barth?”

  “He’s holed up at the hospital with his guys.”

  The hospital? A bell went off somewhere in my mind.

  “Why the hospital?”

  “Thick walls, open ground . . .” She sounded like she might break down and begin crying.

  “Barth’s house is a fortress with open lawns,” I said. “When did they move to the hospital?”

  “We killed four of them,” someone said. Bill Baxter, by his voice. He’d switched sides.

  “When?”

  “Most last night—”

  “No, when did Barth move his men to the hospital?”

  “Last night. After we got the guns.”

  Again, why the hospital? What did the hospital have that Barth’s fortress didn’t? My father? Vlad, with my father. Sedating him . . .

  A wave of panic rode my bones. What if Vlad had wanted me to write my father into Other Earth and was using him?

  “Listen to me carefully,” I snapped. “No one leaves this house. For any reason. I don’t know about your little war, but something much worse is coming down. Don’t ask me how I know that, just know that your life depends on believing me. Forget Barth, forget the guns, forget everything you think you know. Just stay here and pray.”

  “We’re all gonna die in this valley,” someone said, voice breaking. “There’s no way out.”

  Maybe he was right. But I had to find my father.

  I walked up to the table, clicking. Grabbed a handgun.

  “How do you use this?”

  No one moved; no one spoke.

  “How?”

  “Safety’s off.”
I recognized the butcher’s voice. “Just point it and pull the trigger. It’s a nine millimeter semiauto.”

  “Show me the safety.” I could make out the gun’s form but not the finer details. “Put my thumb on it.”

  He set his weapon down, took my hand, and showed me. The room had gone perfectly still. Any lingering doubt about the state of my sight was put to rest.

  “You sure about this?” he asked.

  I turned and strode from the room, leaving them in a mild state of shock. Linda called out for me when I was halfway up the stairs, but I didn’t respond.

  I can’t say that I had much of a plan as I let myself out the back door and sprinted for the corner of the next house. Nor that I was afraid for my life. I was past that, maybe because the adrenaline now pumping through my veins had altered my mind so that I could apply acute focus to the challenge at hand. I’m sure that was part of it, but the larger part was my desperation to get to my father.

  It took me ten minutes to reach the back side of the hospital, echolocating on the run through the trees the long way around. The rear door would be locked and the windows likely guarded. But I wasn’t going for either the door or the windows.

  I had to get up the corner escape ladder to the roof. Following my mother’s death, my father had taken up smoking for a year. He told me he’d often taken breaks up there, hidden from prying eyes. He’d also locked himself out once and decided to hide a key under one of the air conditioners. It was still there, he said—you never knew when you might want to get out for a break.

  I didn’t want to get out. I wanted in. I hadn’t decided what I’d do when I got there.

  One step at a time was all I knew to do now. Like echolocation, not seeing too far ahead. Faith. I would act and then react to whatever presented itself to me. There was no time for a plan.

  The ladder was on the northeast corner of the two-story building. Its precise location wouldn’t come into view until I was much closer, but I was sure it was there, forty paces ahead. At night, I would have an advantage over anyone else. Now, only my speed and agility could compensate for my blindness.