by Steven Novak
“Mom …I don’t want you to go away.”
He was never sure why he said it or what it was even supposed to mean. The question was less a conscious decision than a reaction, and it caught Megan off guard.
“What? What—what are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to be in the hospital for a little while, remember? We talked about this the other day.”
Despite the feeble attempt at reassurance, Megan’s eleven-year old son remained unsatisfied. He didn’t believe her. He could see right through her answer, and knew she was lying.
Having successfully trekked his way to the top of the hill, Nicky yelled happily in the direction of his mother, “Mommy! Hey, mom! Watch this!” Leaping onto the plastic sled, the little boy slid down and collapsed into a frenzied heap at the bottom once more, laughing the entire time. Megan chuckled at his innocence, happy she still had it in her life. Beside her, Tommy continued to stare, his beautiful blue eyes—so achingly similar to hers—pleading for an answer she wasn’t prepared to give. A part of her wished he was younger. Just a few years and he’d be seeing the entire situation through very different eyes, through his brother’s eyes. He was not younger, though. He was older, and he had questions—questions she knew as a mother she needed to answer. Lying to him would only make things worse as the years went by. Lying to him would only leave the boy resenting her, and she wouldn’t be around to pick up the pieces. He deserved the truth, no matter how badly it might hurt or how unprepared he might be to deal with it. When she was a little girl, Megan’s mother once told her that pain was like a Band-Aid, always better to get it over with quickly. With Nicky starting up the hill again, yelling for his older brother to join him, Megan turned to Tommy and placed her hands on his shoulders. He was growing up so quickly, getting so tall, turning into a little man. Despite his size, at the core his features remained much the same as those of the infant that required so very much of her attention in order to survive. No matter how old he got, at least from her perspective, this much would never change.
Reaching up, she placed her hand against the side of his cold face. “Everyone goes away when it’s their time, hunny. Unfortunately, we don’t get to choose; it just happens and we have to accept it.”
Whether due to the cold, his emotions, or a combination of the two, Tommy’s expression remained frozen. His response was so simple it tore at the very fibers making up Megan’s heart: “But I don’t want you to.”
Lowering to one knee, Megan put herself at the same level as her son, staring into his confused yet strangely expressionless face. “I know you don’t, baby. I know you don’t. I don’t want to go either. When our time comes, we go. It’s the way it’s always been, the way it’ll always be.”
Tommy’s expression went sour, his chilly blue tinted lips pulling tight. “No.”
“Sweetie it’s all right. Everything will be okay, I swear. You may not understand right now, but you will one day, I promise.”
“I can change it. You’ll see. I’ll change it. I can do it mom, I really can.”
“Tommy, listen to me—”
“NO! I’m not letting you go!” Her son’s expression changed dramatically, his voice rising in volume as puddles of warm liquid began to spout from the corners of his eyes. “I’m not letting them take you! I won’t let you go! I can fight! I can fight, and I’ll fight them all! You don’t have to go! You don’t!”
At the top of the hill, Nicky Jarvis now stood frozen in place with the sled pulled tightly to his chest as he listened to his brother screaming. Wrapping her son in her arms, Megan pulled Tommy close to her chest, allowing his tears to fall into the nape of her neck as he sobbed.
Patting him gently on the back, she whispered, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, I promise,” over and over again, struggling to fight back her own tears and remain strong for her child. When his mother’s neck was thoroughly soaked and Tommy had nothing left with which to cry, he stopped trying to wiggle loose from her grip. The familiar scent of her hair and the warmth of her body succeeded in calming him much the same it always had. The cool breeze freezing his tears to her flesh, Megan pushed her son away once more, cupping his cheeks in her gloved hands. He looked so lost, so hurt, alone, and confused. It would have been so simple to lie to him, to tell him something she didn’t believe simply because it would likely make him feel better. In her heart though, she knew she couldn’t do that; she wouldn’t do that. He deserved more than lies, false hopes and nonsense. He deserved what all children deserved, despite the fact that so many believed they were unable to process it: he deserved the truth.
Placing her hand under his chin, Megan lifted his face to hers, hardened tears glistening off the pink of his cheeks. “Tommy, look at me.”
Fighting back his emotions, Tommy breathed deeply and gazed into the eyes of his mother. Just over the crest of her soft, flowing hair, the sun had begun to peek through the dense clouds. It looked whiter than it did yellow, an explosion of light.
“I promise you it’ll be okay, sweetie. You know I would never lie to you, and I promise it’s going to be all right. Everything’s connected, and no matter what, Mommy will always be with you. No matter where you go or what you do, I’ll be watching you the entire time. I’ll be in the stars or the trees or the snow or even the air. I’m never going to be out of reach, sweetie. I want to see you grow up; I want to see you turn into a handsome young man, and do everything you’ve ever dreamed, and you’re going to do great things, Thomas Charles Jarvis. I know you are.”
Though the sound of his mother’s words were comforting in a way only a mother’s could be, their meanings did little to mend the awful aching of Tommy’s heart. The same as most children, he preferred the answers to questions simple, black and white without the gray, yes or no. This was anything but. He didn’t care what his mother said; he was not going to let her go away. She didn’t have to go, and he could stop it. He would stop it.
From the corner of her eye, Megan spotted Nicky still standing motionless atop the hill, staring blankly at her and Tommy, his fingers drumming nervously on the plastic sled.
“Now go play with your brother, Tommy. Go slide,” She said with a whisper and a somber smile to her eldest child before planting a kiss on his cold cheek. “Go ahead, he’s waiting for you up there. Go take care of him.”
With his head hanging low, Tommy turned and shuffled in the direction of Nicky, the hill and the sled. He would pretend to have fun because he knew he had to, because it was what his mom wanted and needed him to do. Sliding was simple and fun and as white as the fallen snow. Sliding came free of confusing, difficult-to-deal-with grays.
Megan watched as Tommy quickly scaled the mountain of snow and greeted his younger brother with a playful, though somewhat half-hearted shove at the top. For the next thirty minutes, she breathed in the chilly-fresh air, smiling and chuckling at the brotherly bond shared between her children. She was happy they were so close, and wished it might last forever. The snow continued to fall well into the evening, covering the sleepy little town even deeper in a blanket of white. The first snowfall of the season was always the most memorable, and memories were what Megan Jarvis needed most.
*
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CHAPTER 62
BROTHERS IN ARMS
*
As the Briar Patch wobbled drastically atop the cresting waves, Captain Fluuffytail was tossed violently to the deck. Spinning across the old, splintered wood, he slammed into the ship’s railing and came to an immediate, painful stop, grunting deeply as a wave of pain coursed through his midsection. Above him, the crackling translucent bubble rising from Tommy Jarvis’s hand continued to encapsulate his ship. Constantly bombarded by a barrage of arrows and cannon fire, the bubble wobbled like gelatin, reducing everything coming into contact with it into little more than puffs of grayish-black smoke. As Tommy struggled to maintain the bubble’s integrity against the onslaught of Ochan weapons, his younger brother charged to the front
of the ship, leaned over the railing, and screamed as loudly as his little body could muster. What came from his mouth, however, were anything but mere words. The instant the boy opened his mouth, the words built up inside transformed into something quite different, something massive and dangerous, something of weight and matter and speed, something that passed with ease through Tommy’s protective bubble on a collision course with a patch of Ochan warships. This incredible new thing, no longer resembling a word like any word the universe had come to know, slammed into the dark ships, ripping them to pieces in the blink of an eye. Sturdy blackened wood, coarse bone, hardened steel and sinewy flesh were scattered for miles in every direction in a cacophony of destruction. Having destroyed one ship, the incredible force moved onward to another and another after that. By the time the energy dissipated, it had reduced at least ten warships to flaming pieces of floating rubble. The force of the boy’s word was terrifying. The strength of his word was awe-inspiring. The fleet of Ochan warships was massive, however, and the obliteration of ten ships barely made a dent in the overall force. With ten ships gone, ten more immediately cut through the debris field to take their place. Sprinting full speed to the opposite end of the Briar Patch, Nicky leaned over the railing once again and fired another blast of his astounding word power, reducing still more ships to worthless husks.
Near the center of the Fluuffytail’s ship, Krystoph watched the boy with unbelieving eyes. These children were more powerful than he could ever have imagined, and more dangerous than they had any right to be. To put such power in the hands of children—this was the plan of a fool, a recipe for destruction. There could be no other outcome. Above him, enormous cannon balls and arrows continued to slam into the slightly bluish, humming bubble of energy. The sounds resulting from the collisions were remarkable. Having more in common with a burst of electricity than an explosion, the bubble of light hummed, popped and crackled angrily, flashing and glowing like the surface of the sun. Following the glow to its source, Krystoph took careful note of the peculiar expression on the face of Tommy Jarvis. The boy was in obvious pain; maintaining the integrity of the sphere seemed to be requiring his complete physical energy and mental focus. Tommy’s entire body was shaking, a thick sheen of sweat pouring down his face. Despite the obvious discomfort, however, the child refused to relent. He was determined, steely and hardheaded, traits inspiring feelings of both admiration and caution in the former Ochan general.
Running from one end of the ship to the other was quickly wearing on young Nicky Jarvis. His legs were on fire, the bottoms of his feet more sore than he remembered them being at any point in the whole of his young life. His throat was sore, scratchy like sandpaper, and getting significantly sorer with every blast of energy. Around him, the crew of the Briar Patch watched in awe, confused as to exactly what was happening or how they could help. While cautiously weaving through a patch of arrows protruding from the deck, Nicky’s feet slid out from underneath him and he tumbled forward. Landing hard on his chest, the air was forced from his lungs, small gashes opening immediately on both his elbows. Tired and on the verge of tears, Nicky tried to pull himself to his feet only to stumble again. He should have listened to his brother. He should have listened to his brother and stayed with Ed and Edna. He shouldn’t be doing this. Everything was spinning out of control, and he wasn’t cut out for this. Not too far away, he watched as his brother dropped to one knee, the bubble encasing the ship slowly shrinking, dwindling in tune with Tommy’s strength. Despite having destroyed so many ships, Nicky could scarcely see anything other than the black beasts on the water, each rapidly closing in on the Briar Patch. Trying again to crawl to his feet, he stumbled forward once more and began to sob into his cupped hands. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this and he shouldn’t have been asked to do this.
He wanted to go home.
From across the deck, Nestor spotted the flattened out, teary-eyed boy and understood immediately that he was incapable or unwilling to rise. With the remainder of the crew too confused to act, Nestor took a deep breath and hopped to his feet. Thanks to Staci, his muscles felt energized and full, every nagging pain and life-threatening injury healed completely. He vowed not to let her aid go to waste.
Charging in Nicky’s direction, he snagged the child in mid-stride, quickly carried him to the opposite end of the ship, then held his tiny body over the tumultuous waters. “Go lad! Fire, now!”
Weightless in Nestor’s gargantuan paws, Nicky could only shake his head, unable to gain control over the flood of emotions strangling his ability to act.
The ships were getting closer, and the closer they got the more destructive the force of their cannons. Glancing over his shoulder, Nestor noticed that Tommy was now on both knees, his face an ugly grimace of tightly drawn muscles. Kneeling beside him, a terrified Staci Alexander continued to encourage the boy, pleading for him to find a way to work through the pain.
Pulling Nicky close to his face, Nestor stared into the weary, tear soaked eyes of the child. “You must continue, lad. I am sorry but there is no other choice.”
He hated having to say it, to push the terrified boy further and demand so much of one so very little. He hated it more than anything he’d been forced to do in recent memory. Nicky remained the only chance they had for survival. For this singular moment, the child would have to become more than the sum of his parts, more than even he might believe he was capable. For this singular moment, he would have to be a hero.
“Believe me, I know how hard it is, lad. I understand how terribly it must hurt.” Nestor continued. “You must not stop, Nicholas. You cannot stop. I swear to you, I shall not leave your side. I will remain here with you the entire time, but you must act now.”
Despite the pain and the frustration, despite the fact that his body was urging him to lie down and call it quits, Nicky Jarvis opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded in the direction of the green skinned turtle man. Nestor smiled wide. He was growing more and more impressed with these strange children every day. He once believed the Fillagrou prophecy to be nonsense, wishful thinking at best. He was not so sure anymore.
With Tommy’s bubble continuing its gradual implosion and Nestor running from one side of the ship to the other lugging the weary-faced Nicky as he blasted Ochan ships to oblivion, Krystoph realized neither child would last long enough to destroy the entire fleet. There were simply too many ships, and they were far too tired. When at last the Tommy’s protective bubble gave way and fell, the Briar Patch would be ripped to pieces. They could not win this battle. If the Briar Patch was destroyed, he would be as well, and so would the Rongstag. Krystoph could not allow this. If he was to have his vengeance, both he and the Rongstag needed to survive the day.
There was no other choice. He had to find a way off the ship.
*
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CHAPTER 63
REMOVE THE FEMALE
*
The orders of his king were clear, concise and simple. “Remove the female child from the situation, and retrieve the artifact.” The reality of bringing this order to life, however, was proving significantly more difficult than General Thrax envisioned. Though more than a few miles and hundreds of warships separated him from Captain Fluuffytail’s pathetic vessel, the general could clearly distinguish the ominous glow of young Tommy Jarvis’ protective bubble. He’d seen this magic before. He was there when the child laid waste to a castle full of well-trained Ochan warriors, just barely escaping with his own life. Emerging from somewhere within the glowing sphere, destructive waves of a force that warped and distorted the sky as they moved slammed into the nearest Ochan ships and reduced them to explosive cinders in the blink of an eye. For a moment Thrax considered calling for a retreat. In truth, however, he knew that retreat was not a viable option. He had retreated once already, leaving the body of the prince to rot among the shattered bricks of his demolished Fillagrou castle. Leaving without accomplishing his mission a second time might mean saving
the life of his soldiers. It would also mean ending his. The king would not accept another failure. There was no backing down, not until the meddlesome pirate’s ship had been destroyed, the girl captured, and the artifact recovered. Hearing the familiar squawk of Scarbeaks, Thrax quickly made his way to the rear of his ship as three of the massive winged creatures were led from the lower decks and into the open air. Whipping their heads back and forth while cawing wildly, the winged beasts stumbled awkwardly across the slippery wood as three burly Ochans held them in place with impossibly thick leather leashes. Behind him, Thrax could clearly make out the sounds of yet more vessels meeting their gruesome, untimely demise. Muffled Ochan screams sliced through the air as more of the fleet was obliterated and scattered across the water.
“I need the female child,” Thrax said sternly to the Scarbeak riders. “Your king believes she is the key; she must be removed from the situation, and she must be kept alive.”
The trio of Ochans nodded sternly, though they were more than a little disappointed with the “must be kept alive” part.
“If need be, we can retrieve the artifact from the bottom of the ocean after their ship has sunk. The child, however, is the priority. Do not return without her. Failure is unacceptable.”
After nodding again, the Ochans hopped onto the backs of the squealing Scarbeaks, the creatures cawing angrily through their hideously curved beaks. Receiving a stiff kick in the side from the Ochans, the monsters flapped their enormous wings and took instantly to the air.
Turning again to the battle ahead, Thrax watched as the protective bubble surrounding Fluuffytail’s sad excuse for a ship began to flounder. It was slowly shrinking. Like all things, it seemed even the incredible powers of these children had their limits. With persistence and time they too would fail and fall, as all that had threatened the Ochan nation in the past. On the east end of the incredible bubble, ten more warships were reduced to flaming timbers, hundreds of soldiers killed in the process. Thankfully, General Thrax had thousands of anxious warriors at his disposal, and all the time in the world.
