Shine: The Knowing Ones

by Amy Freeman

  “Do your friends know you’re abusive?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just checking.”

  Sam felt her breath slipping away as Trin’s seductive eyes plunged into her. The semi-confused server left to fill the order as Sam fought a smile. The camaraderie between them was almost too natural. Trin guided her through the café.

  “That’s quite an appetite,” she said.

  “You try racing three events back to back and see how hungry you get.”

  “I can guarantee I will never be that hungry in my entire life.”

  “Well, I suppose not, if you’re used to a water diet.”

  “Shut up,” she laughed. “You’re horrible.”

  “And hungry, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Yes, fine with me. Don’t let me stop you.”

  They came to a secluded corner table in back and Trin moved aside for her to sit first. He slid into the booth bench across from her and removed his team jacket. His muscled shoulders hunched as he placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. Sam dropped her head to one side. “And on that note, do they always have you swimming in that many events?”

  “Not always,” he replied. “But I usually do more than one.”

  Sam shook her head. “That just looks exhausting. I mean, you barely had any breaks, and then all that swimming in between.”

  “We have to swim in between,” he explained. “Racing jacks you up.”

  Sam took a deep breath. “Hmm. I don’t think I could do what you do.”

  “Sure you could,” he said. “I’m sure you work just as hard as I do, just in different ways.”

  “That’s true, I guess,” she replied, looking down at the table. She glanced up at him. “You are amazing to watch,” she said. She thought of the luminous energy she had witnessed along with his immaculate performance, and all of her questions from the night before came rushing back.

  “You mentioned telepathy last night. I didn’t know you could actually speak to me that way.”

  Trin glanced sideways, smiling. “That’s what telepathy is.”

  “Well yeah,” she said, “but we were discussing how you got me to come to you. I thought you were referring to that.”

  Trin shrugged. “Sounds like an assumption.” His eyes gleamed.

  She wanted to slug him. “You said you would tell me everything.”

  “I will, but it’s not going to happen all in one sitting.”

  “How much do you know?”

  “It’s not just me, Sam,” he said. “I acknowledge and use what’s already there.”

  She stared for a moment, then shook her head. “Whatever. How do you do what you did today?”

  “I sent a message. You heard me.”

  “Nobody can just do that.”

  “Have you tried?”

  Sam paused, wanting to argue, but she couldn’t...because she hadn’t.

  “No,” she said. “But I know it’s not that simple. People would be doing it all the time if it were.”

  “Would they?” Trin leaned forward, inclining his head. “How many people do you think have ever even considered trying that?”

  Sam pondered that a moment. “Probably not many.”

  He sat back. “It does take more than just the idea of it, but it’s not magic or super powers, its understanding. Flying, for example, or electricity; they seem like magic until you understand how they work. Knowledge makes everything simple.”

  Sam stared. “Aeronautics and electricity are not simple concepts.”

  “They are to those who understand them,” Trin said. “Think about it. If you study and practice something it becomes easy. It becomes part of who you are, totally natural. Sound like anything you know?”

  Once she got past his lethal blue eyes she responded. “Dance.”

  Trin nodded. “Dance. I can tell you right now the thought of spinning around on my toes for any amount of time sounds horrifying.” Sam laughed, lowering her head. He leaned in. “And yet you do it every day, easily. What I do is no different than that.”

  “Yeah, but normal people don’t understand all the crazy stuff you understand.”

  Trin pursed his lips. “Now I’m crazy and abnormal.”

  Sam laughed out loud. “No. It’s just—you know what I mean.”

  “Don’t know that I do.”

  “Oh my God,”

  He sat back, a satisfactory grin on his face.

  Sam smirked. “You suck.”

  “We’ve established that, thank you.”

  She shook her head and laughed again. He watched her, playful eyes dancing through damp wisps of sun-streaked hair. She looked down at her hands a moment, then glanced up. “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Shoot.”

  “What were you doing before diving into the pool today? With the water, I mean.” She glanced at the table. “All the swimmers gave off energy, but you were...doing something.”

  The guarded individual from the night before returned. He nodded once, his aura morphing to the serene, golden blue that had dominated the night before.

  Sam sat up, pointing. “Right now. What are you doing and how are you doing it?”

  He paused for a moment, hesitant. “I’m cloaking my energy,” he finally said. “It’s pretty much the closest thing to privacy people like you and I have.”

  Sam tilted her head, fascinated. Before meeting Trin it would never have occurred to her there would be a need for such a thing. But having been exposed like an open book to Trin over the past twenty-four hours she could certainly see its value.

  She sat back. “I want to learn how to do that.”

  “You already know how.”

  She glanced at the ceiling. “I really don’t know how. Believe me, I would have been doing it all last night.”

  “You were.”

  Sam squinted in confusion.

  “You were,” he reiterated. “At least until you met me.”

  “What are you talking about?” she argued.

  Trin sat up a bit. “Before I brought you over last night you were totally closed,” he said. “I’ve never seen an aura seal up like that. It was the most solid cloaking I have ever seen.”

  Sam thought for a moment and then the light went on. “The dance floor.”

  Trin nodded with a slight smile. “Believe me. You’ve already got that one down.”

  Sam thought it over. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  She considered her newfound accomplishment for a moment. “Okay,” she began. “Those guys were annoying. What if I want to hide my emotions from someone I don’t want to kill?”

  Trin’s glacier eyes gleamed from beneath his lashes. “Hopefully you’re referring to me.”

  “You’re very smart.”

  “Just checking,” he said. “After all the violence and name calling I wasn’t sure.”

  “Trin!”

  “Okay, okay,” he laughed. He hesitated a moment, then rested his elbows on the table again. “Cloaking is a defense mechanism. It keeps other people out. You can see my energy. I picked up on that when I saw you. Not wanting you to know everything about me right off I turned it on. This will sound weird, but engaging it is a confidence issue.”

  Sam stared. “What do you mean?”

  “If you feel self-conscious or inferior to someone it is nearly impossible to cloak.”

  “You don’t ever feel insecure?”

  Trin tilted his head. “Insecure, yes.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “With everything I have learned, inferiority is not something I deal with anymore.”

  Sam sat across from him, awed by what he had just said.

  “I know how that sounds,” he began, “but you have to understand how I view negative emotion. Fear, despair, pride, hatred, anger, inferiority. I was raised to see them for what they are.”

  “And what are they?”

  “Unnecessary.”

  Sam balked. “You just liste
d some of the most common human emotions.”

  “Where we sit now, yes.”

  Sam could only stare. What did that mean?

  He leaned forward. “Think about those emotions,” he said. “Where do you think those stem from?”

  Sam gazed down at the table. Then she looked up at him. “Insecurity.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “There is no reason for that emotion at all. It’s pointless and destructive. I know society makes that a hard one to get past, but everyone is a gift. Everyone brings something to the table and everyone’s contribution is valuable, even if it may seem insignificant or destructive, because it creates opportunities for growth. Those emotions make us view learning opportunities as misfortune. They aren’t. They only have power until we learn to view them properly.”

  “And you have?” she asked.

  Trin paused. “Yeah.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “It all comes down to understanding truth. Inferiority is a lie. No one is better than anyone else. That is a true statement and if you understand that,” he sat back, “It goes away.”

  Sam’s head was spinning. “So, how do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  Sam laughed. “How do you cloak your energy from me?” she said. “You haven’t told me how to do it. I’m sick of being all exposed while you get to choose.”

  He grinned. “You’re going to have to stop feeling inferior to me.”

  Sam dropped her head back in exasperation.

  “I’m serious,” he laughed. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it. Who I am doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what any of these people think. Focus on you. What you believe, what you feel, then embrace it. Everything else falls into place after that.”

  He sat back in his chair, his nearly fluorescent eyes dancing with mirth. Then his countenance softened. “You need to see yourself as I do.”

  Sam tilted her head. “And what do you see?”

  Trin hesitated a moment, as if considering something. A moment later smoldering blue light filled his irises as it had earlier and Sam found herself unable to look away, not that she wanted to. His engaging eyes shone, wrapping her tighter in an invisible prison, pulling her in. The cloaking element in his aura melted away, exposing his well hidden disposition.

  Sam gasped as indescribable, almost uncontainable respect and humility poured into her. She felt it within her mind, she felt it within her soul, she felt it everywhere. The sensation was so intense it bordered on worship. She fought him, not understanding what he was doing, but this only tightened his hold.

  Trust me.

  His velvet command filled her mind and she succumbed. She had no choice but to let go. Information reached out, unfolding into every part of her. Trin’s heavenly eyes gleamed as his perception of her had its way—honor, respect, power and humility—nearly more than she could fathom. It was all consuming, overwhelming, too much.

  He took her hand and the exchange stopped. With a sharp intake of air her gaze dropped in awe to the strong, beautiful hand holding hers. She lifted her eyes back to his.

  “That is just a glimpse,” he said.

  Her mind spun in a shocking euphoria. She would have been terrified if it hadn’t felt so right.

  At that moment his food arrived. The server balanced a large tray full of plates and looked down to determine what went where. Sam cleared her jolted mind, looked up, and pointed to Trin.

  “It’s all his,” she said.

  “It’s not all mine,” he argued. “That glass of water is hers.” He shook his head in feigned disgust.

  Sam smiled, glowering up at him.

  He looked down at his plate, picking up his fork. “Keep trying to make me look bad,” he mumbled.

  Sam burst out laughing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mikhail walked the grand arched hallway toward the court. It had been years since the council had convened. Without an Oracle there was little to discuss. He lifted his eyes to the curved ceiling. The beautifully crafted, hand carved details seemed so high above him, so out of reach. The stained glass windows stretching the length of the giant stone walls also seemed foreign. A deafening hollow prevailed; a sacred temple once filled with lush energy now dead, silenced, a stark reminder of historic tragedy, still un-avenged. But the elusive new Oracle had been found, and Ashbel had resurfaced. So Mikhail had made the journey from the city to the village—a trek usually made only on weekends. Despite the ugliness haunting the temple halls Mikhail carried with him new hope. Perhaps the nightmare was finally nearing an end.

  He opened the door to the court hall, housing six other Elders and his past Keeper. Dressed in ceremonial robes, the council members stood at his arrival. Anvil stood centered in front of the table, facing him as he approached. Mikhail’s robes billowed as he bowed in reverence. “Добро пожаловать, Anvil.”

  Anvil nodded. “Здравствуйте, Mikhail.”

  Mikhail moved behind the stone arc, taking his seat in the center. Opening the council floor he asked, “What has he decided, Anvil?”

  “Trinton feels compelled to keep Sam uninformed for now. He would like the opportunity to defeat Ashbel without involving Samantha.”

  Every member of the council stared at Anvil.

  “Impossible,” Aleksei said.

  Anvil blinked. “Impossible?”

  “Superior protection comes with the union of two.”

  “Superior protection comes from her Keeper.”

  Mikhail held up a hand. “What are his plans, Anvil?”

  Anvil turned to Mikhail. “You have sent Vitaly with a recon party to locate Ashbel. Once he is found, Trinton desires to go after him with his men, alone.”

  The Elders erupted in a cacophony of opinions and concerns at this very bold and unexpected statement.

  “Please,” Mikhail said.

  The room fell silent.

  “Anvil,” he said, “there is no guarantee Trin can conquer Ashbel without Samantha’s help. We need that guarantee. We could lose them both without it. But even more—we need our Oracle. Ashbel has returned. We are in danger. We have initiated preparations for the protective rites. We must bring Samantha and Trinton home and commence with the ceremony. She must be trained, protected, and given her power. That is the only order that guarantees their safety—and ours.”

  Anvil came forward. “He feels compelled to wait. A Keeper’s instincts must be adhered to.”

  “As long as they are proper,” Aleksei said. “I believe his vision may be clouded.”

  Anvil clasped his hands. “Trinton’s circumstances differ greatly from those before him. Before Ashbel turned against us we were in no immediate danger. Trinton had to find his charge, inform her of her birthright, get her to believe him, teach her about her own gifts, and restore order to the tribe, and that was before discovering Ashbel had somehow survived a century,” he said. “Now he must find a way to accomplish the same list of difficult tasks while keeping his charge safe from an enemy he cannot see and whose capabilities he does not know.”

  Anvil stood quiet for a moment. “I won’t pretend his love for Samantha isn’t the motivation for this decision,” he said. “But that is what motivates a Keeper. It is why he lives - for her. I am not saying it will work. I am not even saying I agree with his decision. But it is his decision and he feels strongly compelled to wait. He is the Keeper. Given the situation and its many deviations from what is normal, I believe he deserves a little latitude.”

  Mila turned to Mikhail. “Do you worry about his abundance of power?”

  Mikhail glanced at Anvil.

  “Trinton doesn’t have it in him to turn,” Anvil replied. “He is firmly committed to his calling. He has been ever since he was a small child.”

  Mikhail pondered that for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “I believe that.” Mikhail turned to the other Elders. “It is possible Trinton is making a mistake,” he said. “But I don’t believe he will fail. The truth
is he is our front line. We needed an extraordinary Keeper and the Divinity sent us Trinton. If they trusted him enough to send him to face these near impossible circumstances then we must trust him too.”

  The other council members contemplated what was said and then finally conceded. Mikhail turned to Anvil.

  “Stay close to him, Anvil,” he said. “He needs you now more than ever.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Which problem are you on?”

  “This one,” she said, pointing to a complex graph.

  Sam and Trin had finished up at the café and made their way over to the campus library. They selected an isolated table in the corner of the upper level and began tackling Sam’s Calculus nightmare.

  “Okay,” he said. He pushed the book to her. “Read it to me.”

  Sam took the book, reluctant to begin. “The velocity for an object in meters per second is v(t) = 36 – t2, where t is between zero and six seconds. Find the total distance traveled.”

  Trin pointed to the v(t) function, looking at Sam. “This is the velocity function,” he said. “To find the total distance traveled from zero to six seconds, you have to use the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus. But remember, when finding the total distance you have to integrate the absolute value of the velocity function from zero to six seconds.”

  Sam’s brain had switched off after the first sentence. “Can I just use my calculator?”

  Trin hesitated. “You really should do the calculations by hand so you can understand the process, but go ahead for this one.”

  She searched her bag, retrieving her calculator. “Okay,” she said. “What do I do?”

  Trin leaned in, taking it from her, his heavenly scent rendering her useless. “First, you need to type the absolute value of the velocity function into y=.”

  Sam watched his masculine hand as he pointed out the different functions on her calculator, his close proximity torturing her as she strained to comprehend his instruction.