by S. S. Segran
The gardener took another look at the letters. “Aside from the girl protecting the box with her life? Nothing.”
“So . . .” Kody fell heavily onto a stool and dropped his forehead against the tabletop. “Africa. A needle in the haystack that is an entire continent. Hah. This might as well be a dead end.” He sounded bitter. “We’re not gonna win this one. There’s just no way.”
Aari plunked down beside him, clawing his fingers through his hair as though he wanted to rip it out. Maybe we really aren’t meant to cross the finish line this time, he thought. Maybe this one is on Gareth. He needs to find Dr. Deol, and soon.
36
Nageau’s black-and-silver cloak swept the ground as he dragged Magèo by the older man’s arm. “Come, now, my friend! A walk will do you good! It is no use being cooped up in your laboratory if there is no cure to be found there.”
Magèo whacked the Elder’s hand away. “Alright, alright!”
Nageau let go and stepped out of the laboratory. The other man followed, grumbling as he slipped on a pair of sunglasses, a gift from Kody during the friends’ most recent stay in Dema-Ki.
Nageau spread his arms wide. “See? Smell that fresh air. It does wonders for the body and mind.”
“The air is not the problem.”
“I know, I know. You have turned the sun into your personal nemesis.”
They crossed the bridge to the other side of the river and headed westward, past clusters of neyra and up an incline upon which sat a spherical glazed-clay structure—the village’s hot water reservoir, fed by a thermal spring. Nageau smiled to himself, recalling with fondness the story the friends recounted of their attempt to escape from Dema-Ki the previous year, and how Kody had burned his fingers on the tank.
Past the incline loomed a rock wall that separated the village from Jov-Ki, the Pinecone Valley. A trodden path burrowed into the granite, disappearing into the darkness. The villagers, who knew the lay of the land just as well as the back of their own hands, hardly ever used a lantern to pass through the dim tunnel.
Magèo grunted as the hole swallowed them. “I think it is time we made this passageway taller, Nageau. I am tired of hunching whenever we travel through this tunnel.”
“That can be the youths’ next project,” the Elder said, stooping to avoid hitting his head.
They emerged a few minutes later in the adjacent, barren valley. Magèo grumbled and brushed past the Elder. Nageau caught up to him with an easy jog. “You seem more bad-tempered than usual,” he said. “What is bothering you?”
“Generally speaking, everything.”
“Right now, I mean.”
“Aside from still being unable to figure out a cure that does not require the seeds?” Magèo sighed. “I am concerned about Nal. She appears to have befriended Hutar.”
“Mmh, yes. Akol did mention that she would appear whenever Hutar goes on his walks.”
“I do not like that they have gotten close.”
“Is this solely her mentor speaking?”
“I will admit that she has become like a daughter to me, but I will not apologize for my caution. I do not believe it is wise for her to nurture this growing amity with Hutar.”
“The boy has been nothing but cooperative during his time here. I know you are looking out for Nal, but I have to wonder if all this mistrust might push Hutar away again. We have an opportunity now to truly guide him onto the right path . . . perhaps even with Nal’s assistance.”
Magèo bristled. “You are not putting my apprentice in the middle of this!”
“If they really have gotten closer, she can aid him to become a better man.”
“I will not put her in the path of that . . . that . . .” Magèo inhaled deeply. “You know Hutar was a troubled child. Add to that his lineage—”
Nageau glowered. “We do not look at others’ bloodlines.”
“Sometimes we have to, Nageau! Sometimes we just cannot turn a blind eye!”
They skirted around the frozen carcass of a deer, remains of a meal most likely left behind by a mountain lion. The Elder kept silent. Beside him, Magèo sighed again. “Has a decision been made about kah’dloc?”
“No. Ashack wants it, whereas I am opposed. Saiyu and Tikina are still undecided. Tayoka seemed inclined to side with Ashack but after the boy saved my life . . .”
Magèo stroked his flowing white beard. “Humph. Kah’dloc is certainly a severe alternative. It is not an easy decision to make, and I cannot say that I envy the Elders.”
“Believe me, I understand the other side of this argument. Yet . . .”
“Yes?”
“Say we do go through with it and completely change Hutar for the better. While it may appear to be a victory, would it not be equivalent to what Rey—to what the harbinger of darkness is doing with the young ones in the Sanctuaries?”
Magèo winced. “I see. How can we, on one hand, condemn something but then justify it enough to use it ourselves? Similar means, same purpose, different hands.”
“Exactly. We would be no better than the harbinger.”
“I wish I could help, Nageau. I really do.”
A red fox bounced out of the trees ahead of them. Nageau bent down and stroked the animal, feeling its soft, thick winter coat. The fox purred contently before flouncing away. The Elder watched it leave, a twinge of envy flickering in his chest at its simple life. Several creatures were known to be friendly with the villagers and would often pass through Dema-Ki as they pleased. Though the predators would have to be closely watched around children and livestock, they understood that they would not be harmed if they behaved.
Magèo cleared his throat. “I do not think you dragged me out of my laboratory simply for my health. Shall we get down to business?”
Nageau smiled wryly. “You know, I do care about you.”
“Oh, yes. I also know that something perturbs you. Get to it.”
“The other Elders and I have agreed that the time is fast coming to move the families of the Chosen Ones to Dema-Ki.”
Magèo nearly tripped over his own feet. “Oh! Alright. But?”
“I take it you have some reservations?”
“Not reservations, as such.” The old man stroked his beard again, only more nervously. “This will be the first time that we will have a large group of outsiders in our village. It should be interesting to see how it plays out.”
“I trust our brethren will do all they can to make the move as easy and comfortable as possible for the families.”
“Of course, of course. Has something happened to spur this decision?”
“Aside from the disease now spreading faster in their homeland? I think if we continue to frustrate the harbinger’s plans, then it will be only a matter of time before the families are taken and used as bargaining chips, or worse. Especially as the Chosen Ones grow in power and continue to be a serious threat to Reyor’s scheme . . .” Nageau trailed off as something nagged in the back of his mind.
“Nageau?” Magèo probed. “What is it?”
“The families would be better off here than in the outside world,” the Elder murmured, “but I wonder for how long Dema-Ki will remain safe.”
“What do you mean?”
Nageau stopped in his tracks and steepled his fingers over his mouth, eyes shut. He felt the cold pinch his ears, heard the forest suddenly grow still as if listening in on the men’s conversation.
“There will be an attack on Dema-Ki,” the Elder intoned softly. “The question is not if, but when.”
Magèo looked up sharply. “Why are you so sure?”
“Because we have the black crystal.” Nageau opened his eyes, glacial-blue gaze clouding.
“But only the Elders, my predecessors, and I know about it,” Magèo whispered.
“Reyor approached me some time before the banishment and caught me off guard, begging me to divulge its location—which I did not, of course. I do not know how the harbinger became aware of its existence. That
should have been a warning sign but I dismissed the plea as eager curiosity.”
“If I recall correctly, a chunk of the crystal is missing. Its location has been a mystery since the beginning of our ancestors’ time in Dema-Ki. Who knows how much stronger we could have been with the whole crystal in one piece.”
“And what we have is more than enough to extend Reyor’s lifespan for eons,” Nageau said. “The harbinger will want to be there, alive and well, to ensure that everything goes according to plan once humanity has been eradicated and the Stewards of New Earth leave the Sanctuaries and return to the surface.”
“And you really think that monster will lay siege to our home for the black crystal?”
“Of that I have no doubt. Combining the lathe’ad’s symbiosis with the longevity afforded by the crystal, Reyor could potentially dominate the world, undeterred, for centuries to come.”
“But—” Magèo snapped his mouth shut as they passed a group of youth on horses bringing back the haul of their morning hunt. The group placed fists over their hearts, heads bowed. The men returned the gesture.
Once the youth were out of earshot, Magèo continued in a hushed voice. “But we have an effective method in place to safeguard against the misuse of the crystal. Only the leading Elder ever knows of the crystal’s precise location.”
Nageau dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “And only your predecessors and you can administer it correctly, yes. Which means when Reyor comes, it will be for us both. And any of our kin who steps in to protect us . . .”
Magèo spun into Nageau’s path and gripped him forcefully by the shoulders, different-colored eyes ablaze. “You must destroy it.”
“You know why I cannot do that.”
“But maybe this is a sacrifice we need to make to keep the crystal from falling into the wrong hands!”
When the Elder pressed his lips shut, Magèo threw his hands up and stalked away through the groves of snow-covered firs, muttering under his breath. Nageau trailed after him, wondering forlornly, What if he is right? What if this calls for a sacrifice, even if it weakens us as a people? But how then will we fend off an attack, bereft of our full strength?
As they circled a rocky outcrop, Magèo halted abruptly, causing the Elder to collide into him. “What—” Nageau started.
“Shh,” the older man whispered. “A Guardian.”
Nageau stepped around the older man and breathed out softly at the sight just ahead. In a clearing leading to the pool of a lofty frozen waterfall glimmering in the sunlight, a colossal creature stood on its hind legs. The silver-furred bear towered fifteen feet above the ground, dark eyes shining with curious light as it watched the men cautiously approach. They lowered their chins as the powerful creature slowly lowered itself onto all fours.
The bear, a Guardian, was one of five that inhabited the forests around Dema-Ki, working to safeguard the people of the valley from trespassers and threats. A mutual bond of respect had formed between the first Guardians and the villagers’ ancestors over two millennia ago, and the descendants of both groups maintained the union.
Nageau went down on one knee, the bear’s shadow eclipsing him. The Guardian snuffled, head tilted slightly. Intelligence twinkled in its gaze as it touched its cold nose to the Elder’s forehead. The man smiled softly and looked up at the massive creature, recalling the first time the Chosen Ones arrived in the valley, unconscious after the plane crash, each one on the back of a Guardian.
Nageau’s smile faded. As he took in the bear’s heavily scarred face, he thought, You were a great help at the Battle of Ayen’et, but we will need your assistance again. I do not know when the harbinger will move to attack, but I trust the Guardians will fight alongside us.
The Guardian snuffled again and held the Elder’s gaze for a moment, then with one last look at the men, the bear lumbered past them and disappeared into the trees. Magèo placed a hand on the Elder’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”
The Elder patted his hand and got up, dusting the snow away from his cloak and moccasin boots. “No,” he said. “Magèo, regardless if the remnant of the black crystal is destroyed or not, Reyor will wage war upon our home. We must be prepared.”
A glint of sorrow fluttered over the other man’s face. “I understand. How may I be of help?”
“I need you to prepare defensive measures that we can put in place.”
“And offensive ones as well, I would imagine.”
“We must be ready for anything.” Nageau looked up at the solid waterfall, shielding his eyes from the light as the rays bounced off the ice, then turned around to face the crescent-shaped tree line some yards away from the frozen pool. Five immense, majestic pine trees stood at the edge of the crescent.
His eyes rested on the centermost tree a few shades darker than the rest. “One thing is for certain,” he said. “Whether the attack is tomorrow, several moon cycles or even a year or two from this moment—we will not go down quietly. We will not let Reyor win.”
37
Gareth gave a tight nod of thanks as the waiter poured him some water and left. The Sentry picked up his drink, shaking it in his glass, but couldn’t bring himself to take a sip. He thought back to his surprise phone call the night before.
Her voice seemed familiar, but I still can’t place it. Which Deol is she? How does she know who I am? How did she get my number? And why did I let her decide on the meeting location? For all I know this café could be a bloody trap and I walked in completely underprepared.
He put the glass down and forced himself to take a bite of his muffin. The upside of Russia being mostly spared by the crop destruction was that food was never stale in the country. Coffee, on the other hand, had become a more difficult commodity to come by.
He could only take a few nibbles before shoving the plate away. After the massacre at the train station twenty-four hours prior, he’d neither eaten nor slept. The gruesome scene played over and over in his mind, and the screaming and gunfire still echoed in his ears. And now with the meeting close at hand, he felt as though he would be sick. What monster can look at the world and decide that she’s perfectly fine with genocide?
The bell above the entrance jingled as a woman stepped through the door. Gareth’s face fell. Not you. Oh God, not you.
Ina Deol walked briskly to his table, surreptitiously throwing looks over her shoulder. Her black hair, done in a messy side braid, was tucked into her green jacket and she had bags under her luminous brown eyes. She sat across from him, inspecting the small, mostly empty café, before at last resting her gaze on the Sentry. They were both guarded, both sizing the other up as if it was the first time they were meeting.
I don’t understand, Gareth thought, heart sinking. It can’t be her. She seemed so sweet. Normal. She’s a mother, for heaven’s sake. She can’t be capable of something like this.
His nostrils flared as a storm of conflicted emotions threatened to knock him over. “So. An artist. I assume that was a lie.”
“I am an artist,” she retaliated, “but it’s only a hobby. I don’t make a living from it.”
“And the house? Is that really inheritance?”
“No. My employer generously provides.”
“Right. Phoenix Corporation.”
The faint lines on her visage tautened. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Where’s Anya?”
“At home with a babysitter.” She looked over her shoulder again.
“So how . . . how did you—”
“Find out who you are?” she finished. “It wasn’t difficult. Firstly, my gut feeling switched to hyper drive when you showed up. I have never, ever received flowers after my husband passed. Secondly, I have cameras that monitor my property and one of them is placed across the street from my house. You happened to park right in front of it.”
“I didn’t notice any cameras.”
“Of course not. They’re not meant to be detected.”
“That’s fair. What else?�
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“I have access to some resources. Once I had your face and your license plate”—she swiped his glass and took a sip from it—“facial recognition scans pulled up some fascinating things.”
Gareth’s jaw tightened. “Such as?”
“You have a habit of showing up where interesting events happen. The Good Samaritan from Wales who never takes credit . . . both you and your brother.”
The Sentry sat back, arms crossed, and adopted a mask of inscrutability. “And I’m assuming you somehow traced my license plate to the car hire agency and got my number.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s crafty, I’ll give you that. But why did you reach out to me?”
“Why were you looking for me?”
Gareth searched her face. She’s fearful about something. She’s barely made proper eye contact the entire conversation. Should I tell her the truth, then? What have I got to lose?
He licked his lips. “I’ve been looking for you because I think you have the cure.”
She clasped the glass with both hands, red nails scratching the surface. “Cure? For what?”
“Don’t do that. You know what. The outbreak.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Because I know you created the virus. I know you engineered the Marauders. I know that you work under a bloke named Bertram and he’s been suspicious of your loyalty as of late.”
She paled, visibly stunned by his knowledge of her.
“If you really are Dr. Deol,” he continued, “then I think you want out of this abyss.”
“How did you—”
“You have your means, I have mine.” Gareth softened his tone. “People can make wrong decisions. Horrible decisions. Decisions that they don’t think they can ever come back from. You can’t undo what has happened, I understand that. But you can make a difference, right now. The question is, will you?”
She drew away and hugged her shoulders as she gazed out the window. They sat in silence for some minutes. Then she breathed in deeply, suddenly looking as though she might shatter at the slightest touch.
