by Gene Curtis
LeOmi said, “We’re not injured.”
Bekka said, “I know, but Jamal, Nick, Chenoa, James and Salina were the students that the thrall attacked.”
* * *
The healing ward was abuzz with activity. The beds occupied by the five wounded friends were surrounded by other students. Mark went to the closest one; it was Nick. There was some sort of poultice lying on his bare chest amid a convergence of blood streaks.
Nick’s voice was weak, “Remind me not to try to use a tablet in a sword fight. It doesn’t work that well.”
Mark smiled, “You’ll probably hear from Ms. Vanmie on that score. What happened?’
“I’m not really sure. I was in The Oasis for lunch and using my tablet when someone yelled, ‘Thrall!’ I turned to look and it was right there swinging a sword down at me. I tried to block it with the tablet. That probably saved my life. The tablet didn’t fare so well. I must have passed out because that’s all I remember. The good thing is now I can add ‘folded, spindled and mutilated’ to my résumé.”
Mark smiled at Nick’s joke. “Why the poultice?”
“It’s to draw out the contaminants. The thrall was made from dishes and tableware. Was that LeOmi’s lake?”
LeOmi shook her head, “Close, but that wasn’t it.”
“That was the best candidate for one in the states. I’ve got a list of the next five most likely ones.” He grimaced while he reached in his pants pocket, pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to LeOmi.
“Thanks. I owe you dinner for this.”
“It’s a date; I like French.” He smiled then winced in pain again.
“Easy boy, or you’ll come up lame,” said LeOmi.
Mark said, “We better let you rest. We’ll check on you later.”
Nick nodded and closed his eyes, obviously still in pain.
The next bed held Jamal who was asleep. There was a poultice on his left shoulder. Rather than wake him they went to the next bed.
Chenoa was awake but groggy. Her wounds weren’t visible since she was covered with a sheet. They started to walk on to the next bed when Chenoa said, “It was Slone. He did this to us. They’re going to kill him.”
“I know,” Mark answered. “Don’t worry; the Council of Elders is dealing with him.”
Chenoa shook her head. “Don’t let him get away with this. He’s evil.”
“He’s being dealt with. You rest and let that poultice do its work.”
She frowned, nodded and closed her eyes.
The next bed held Salina. She was in about the same state as Chenoa. Cap’n Ben was there with her. He shook his head when he noticed them approaching. “Slone is a nutcase. Can you believe this? I think he did it on purpose.”
LeOmi said, “Of course he did it on purpose. You can’t create a thrall by accident.”
“No, I mean he had it attack us on purpose and then claimed he lost control of it. Those things only act according to what the master wants. It’s not possible to lose control of it until it’s killed.”
Mark asked, “Who killed it?”
“I did, but that’s not the point. Slone was out for blood.”
“The Council of Elders is dealing with him.”
“Oh, then he’ll get a slap on the wrist.”
“I think they’re smarter than that.”
“Yeah, well watch what happens.”
Mark felt a wave of calm reassurance wash over him and knew LeOmi was projecting her feelings in an attempt to calm Cap’n Ben. After a moment he said, “Sorry for the outburst, but I’m mad.”
“It’s okay to be mad, but don’t let it control you.”
“You sound like my grandmother. She used to call me Three Blind Mice; be careful or someone’s going to cut off your tail.” He held out his signet for them to see its emblem: a side view of three mice with no tails. “I’ve always been a bit of a hot head.”
LeOmi muttered, “Join the crowd.”
Their conversation had waked Salina. She mumbled, “You’re my knight,” and smiled.
Cap’n Ben bent over and kissed her forehead, “You go back to sleep. You’ve lost a lot of blood; you need to rest.”
She smiled wider and closed her eyes.
Mark whispered to Cap’n Ben, “See you later,” and started walking toward the last bed.
Cap’n Ben whispered back, “Thanks.”
James was awake. The poultice was on his stomach. When he noticed his brother and LeOmi he said, “Took a poke in the gut, not too deep. Cap’n Ben took its head before it could shove it in too far. I’d most likely be dead if it weren’t for him. It all happened so fast. I told you Slone was Benrah.”
“Slone isn’t Benrah. I’ve faced Benrah and Slone is nothing like him. Not even close. You should have seen him by the moat; he was pitiful. I think he might have dirtied his diaper.”
“I don’t know; it could all be an act.”
“I’ve seen fear too and that was genuine fear.”
James shook his head, “I don’t know little brother; you might be right, but I just can’t shake the feeling.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Fishing
The guide said in French, “I must attend my duties. Just remanifest back to the hotel when you are finished and I will take you to the next one.” She turned and disappeared.
Mark and LeOmi had visited several lakes over the week of Orientation, all of which met the general description from her dream: blue water, nearby hills, sparse vegetation, smell of olive trees, etc. None of them were even close to the one she was looking for. This one, Bin el-Ouidane, was no different.
LeOmi looked around and shook her head. “Morocco is too sandy. I don’t think we’ll find the lake here.” She spun down, sat with her legs crossed and took out the complete list Nick had given her. “Twelve down, eighty-one to go.”
Helping her find the staff was what he was supposed to be doing and the only clue that she had to help them in discovering it was her dream. Raphael had implied that finding the lake in her dream would lead to the staff, but there had to be a better way of finding it. He knelt down where he was, poked his finger into the sand and began doodling. “What’s your gut tell you?”
“Mr. Young found yours and hid it. He left you easy clues to find it. If anyone in my family had found it then it would be in the hands of the Neos and I’d have to fight for it or steal it from them.”
“Your mother left you that journal; maybe there’s a clue in it.”
“It was stolen last year, remember? Besides, it’s written in an ancient language and not much has been translated.”
“Cap’n Ben can read it; that’s his gift.”
She shook her head, “That’s grasping at straws.”
“I don’t know. The seven of us have been brought together for a reason and we all have peculiar talents.”
“It doesn’t matter; the journal is gone.”
In the middle of her sentence, a man wearing middle-eastern garments complete with a turban appeared a few yards behind her, facing away. His left hand held a rather large scimitar. Mark stood and drew his sword. He saw LeOmi’s eyes widen. The intruder turned and when he saw them, he immediately closed his eyes and tilted his head back much as Mark had seen Mr. Diefenderfer do last year in the aftermath of the attack on the school. He felt a wave of intense anger wash over him; LeOmi was no longer hiding her feelings.
LeOmi stood, sword in hand. She held her other hand out to Mark. “Remanifest!”
Too late, Mark was tackled from behind and he lost his grip on his sword. He saw more figures appearing as he grappled with his assailant. LeOmi’s sword flashed by his left ear just before she was tackled. His attacker’s grip loosened and the man fell away. Mark grabbed his sword and took the head off LeOmi’s attacker. She regained her feet and they stood back to back, swords at the ready.
They were surrounded by eight... ten... twelve men in a semicircle leaving their only escape path toward the water. He noticed that none
of the attackers were armed. Even the large scimitar was lying in the sand where the first man had appeared. He realized they weren’t here to kill them; they were here to kidnap LeOmi. Could they actually remanifest with her if she didn’t want to hold on? No, but they could knock her out and then remanifest.
They couldn’t remanifest out of there either, not yet anyway. He knew if they tried that they’d be attacked again before they could manage it. He removed two oxy-caps from Aaron’s Grasp and handed one to LeOmi. She smiled when she took it.
“Grab some stones so we’ll sink.”
The man that had discarded his scimitar spoke in French, “Stones will not deter us. We may be unarmed, but we are determined. You will have to murder us as you have these two,” he pointed at the bodies on the blood soaked sand. “But there are twelve of us and two of you. You cannot win. Come with us and prevent further harm.”
Mark and LeOmi broke and ran into the water. They were walking in deeper when the man said, “In the water you cannot fight so well. You will tire quickly. Thank you.”
Mark and LeOmi walked in over their heads and continued walking on the bottom since they were weighted down and the oxy-caps provided the air they needed. Mark looked up and saw the silhouettes of the men swimming on the surface above them. They were indeed determined.
After a few more steps one of the men dived down. LeOmi obviously saw him too; when he was close enough, she swung her sword. It looked like she was moving in slow motion; still, the man wasn’t quick enough to completely dodge her strike. He lost the tips of a couple of fingers. When he reached the surface, the next one came down. Mark thought, If this keeps up the fish are going to get plenty to eat today. The second man was trailing blood when he returned to the surface. After the fifth one Mark thought, Seems like they’d be smart enough to get a boat or just give up. LeOmi caught his thought and smiled.
After about fifteen more tries the men quit diving down and just swam on the surface keeping pace with them. The water was getting deeper, but it was fairly clear so there was no place for Mark and LeOmi to hide. Even if they could hide, their bubbles would give them away. Their only choice was to keep walking and let the men wear themselves out by swimming to keep up with them.
A mechanical whining sound wasn’t noticeable at first but as it grew louder, Mark began to wonder what it was. It dawned on him that they might actually be smart enough to send for a boat. He nudged LeOmi; when she looked at him, he pointed to his ear and mouthed the word ‘boat’. She concentrated on listening for a moment and then nodded.
Getting to the surface to remanifest might be an option if they could get far enough away from the attackers. That escape route could easily be foiled if just one of the attackers managed to grab on to either of them before they actually remanifested. He’d be transported along with them and could then let his compatriots know where he was so they could remanifest too. That wasn’t a good plan.
He remembered seeing dolphins and whales on TV transporting a person through the water. No dolphins or whales here. Are there big fish? Balaam’s Tongue, he thought, and began examining his thoughts to see if he could pick up any fish communication. He’d never spoken with fish before and had no idea what their thoughts were like or even if Balaam’s Tongue worked with fish. With the leviathan in the moat, he’d only gotten sensory information and desires, would fish be similar or more primitive? – Nothing.
Sure enough, the boat stopped overhead. He watched the silhouettes as the men climbed aboard. A few moments later, one of the men splashed back in and began sinking. A second one followed, a third, and a fourth. As they got closer, Mark could see they each had a long pole with a loop on the end like dogcatchers use.
LeOmi began running toward the men. Underwater, her progress was somewhat slow and by the time she was in range, they had spread into an arc to flank her. If she went after one, she’d open herself to attack by the other three. That left him one choice: to circle around behind them.
They showed little concern toward Mark and kept their attention on LeOmi for the most part. Two more splashes overhead meant two more assailants were on their way down so he had to act quickly. His sword penetrated the closest man’s inner thigh rather easily. A profuse amount of blood squirted into the water in rhythm with the man’s heartbeat. Mark turned his attention to the next closest man just in time to see the noose coming for his head. He dodged and lashed his sword toward the second man’s hand, the only target in range. The pole sank to the bottom with the hand still holding it.
He didn’t know if it was because the water had become murky with blood or his attention was focused on trying to get a glimpse of LeOmi’s situation that he didn’t see the noose slip over his head, but he sure felt it tighten around his throat and then being dragged down. He tugged at the noose with his free hand; it was rope, not steel cable as he thought it might be. He cut the rope with his sword and used the pole to pull himself toward his attacker. The man released the pole, dropped his weight belt and began swimming for the surface just beyond Mark’s reach. Before he reached the surface, four other men splashed into the water.
Mark looked around to find LeOmi. She was in a cloud of blood between two bodies floating just above the bottom. He walked as quickly as he could toward her and she started toward him. He handed her a fresh oxy-cap and pointed at the men descending. She nodded indicating she had already seen them. When the men were close enough they could see that they were armed with spear guns complete with cords attached to the spears.
The first man fired at LeOmi before he touched down. She dodged and the spear shaft passed by her legs. A quick flick of her sword cut its line. The other three spread out when they got to the bottom: two heading for LeOmi and one heading for Mark.
Mark didn’t guard his thoughts, Look at your friends... fish food. Looking for the same fate? He brought to the front of his mind the image of a school of large fish tearing at the dead men on the bottom. He held his sword up and the man didn’t stop, but he slowed a little.
Two more steps and the man fired. Mark turned quickly to the side and dodged the spear. He felt a wave of panic wash over him and knew instantly that LeOmi was transmitting false emotions. His assailant’s face showed that it was working; his mouth was wide open and his eyes were wide with fear. Mark started walking toward him brandishing his sword. The man dropped his weight belt and headed for the surface. He turned toward LeOmi and her assailants were heading for the surface too.
Four more splashes meant four more were coming down. This time they had nets: two nets, each stretched between two men and about twenty feet long. Mark had the idea that he’d just slice through the webbing and didn’t discover that the webbing was made with steel wire until he got close enough to try. Nonetheless, he just raised the net and slipped under. Their anger was apparent; they dropped the net and drew swords.
A man-sized carp swam in front of Mark toward the bodies on the bottom, then another and another. A few seconds later hundreds were going after the fresh meat. Mark could sense their thinking: instinctive desire and hunger, all focused on the bodies. He let his mind form the image of many carp going after the men with the swords and thought of how satisfying it was to take a bite out of the arm holding that shiny thing.
It worked almost instantly, the school of large fish turned in unison toward the men with swords. The men broke for the surface. They made it, but not unscathed. A few minutes passed before the boat motored away.
When their heads were finally above water, LeOmi remanifested them to the lakeshore behind Hotel Bin el-Ouidane where their guide worked. Immediately she spun down to sit cross-legged in the wet sand with her back toward Mark. Her wet hair clung to the side of her face and her body began to heave; she was crying and he felt her deep sadness as if it were his own. He put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her and she shrugged it off. She raised her face to the sky and cried out, “God! Why him? His soul was pure!” She bowed her head again and continued to sob.
&
nbsp; Mark sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”
She yelled, “It’s not okay!” She stood and stepped away to face him. “Don’t you understand? Your soul is tarnished now, stained with blood for the rest of your life!” She turned and started walking away along the shoreline. “It won’t wash off! It will change you!”
He didn’t feel changed or even tarnished. What he did, he had to do. It was that simple. If he hadn’t acted to defend her there’s no telling what those men would have done. He didn’t guard his thoughts so she could hear them. Killing those men was the right thing to do. Why don’t you feel the way I do? It’s not right for you to be this upset. Maybe it has something to do with you killing your mother’s murderer. I don’t understand.
He felt her rage flare; it engulfed him like a flame. She screamed, “I chose to kill Compton! I didn’t have to; the police would have taken him.” She sobbed again. “I killed him because he destroyed someone I loved and he’d do it again!” She dropped to her knees still crying, “Not because I had to.” She looked up at him and her face was twisted in anguish. “He’s dead and I still hate him!” She bent and pounded her fists into the sand over and over.
He’d never seen her like this before and doubted that anyone had. Was it because they were alone here on this sandy shore and she felt comfortable enough to let him see her vulnerabilities or was it that she had reached her breaking point and couldn’t help herself? No matter what the reason, she needed the comfort of a friend. He knelt beside her and changed the subject.
“How’d they find us? Does Ruby have spies everywhere?”
LeOmi kept her face down and nodded, “If she’s anything like Grand-Mère she does.” Grand-Mère was LeOmi’s grandmother on her mother’s side. She had mysteriously disappeared after LeOmi’s mother’s death and LeOmi feared her grandmother might be dead too.
“Next question: why was that guy facing away from us when he appeared?”
