Rebecca Newton and the Sacred Flame

by Mario Routi

  Glowing with confidence and knowing that she looked good, she opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine of Utopia, ready to depart for the Flame Ceremony.

  The sound of feet pounding across cobbles made her turn. Six powerfully built men dressed in blue cloaks appeared from behind the stables and ran towards her across the courtyard.

  She froze for an instant, before seeing that beneath the flowing blue cloaks the men wore outfits of black leather.

  “Treachery! Sharkans!” Rebecca shouted, springing into classic fighting stance, a posture of strength that belied her youth and fragile build. Her crystal sword flashed in the sun and, for a moment, the Sharkans hesitated in their charge, as if sizing up their foe.

  One of them found the courage to lunge at her but she danced lightly aside and kicked out, striking him hard and fast in his gut.

  He yelped like a puppy and crashed to the ground, hugging himself tightly and moaning in pain.

  As the second Sharkan rushed at her, Rebecca leaped high in the air, spun round and slammed her foot deep into his throat, sending him down beside his colleague. His eyes bulged and a terrible gurgling noise dribbled from his slack jaw.

  The remaining four Sharkans were taking no chances. They whirled a large net over their heads and threw it with remarkable skill and accuracy over their prey, ensnaring her like a brightly coloured butterfly.

  Even with her limbs contained she continued to lash out, trying to slash through the netting to reach her captors. Their only chance was to pin her down and all four of them hurled their heavy bodies on top of the net, emitting savage, animalistic growls of anger.

  Winded and unable to move her arms or legs beneath their bulk, she could do nothing but bite until they forced a piece of hide tightly between her teeth, gagging her painfully.

  One of them drew his sword, forcing the blade against the soft flesh of her long neck, making it even harder for her to breathe.

  “Shut up,” he snarled, “or I’ll slice your head off like a chicken!”

  There was nothing she could do to free herself from the weight of the men and once she had given up struggling, they blindfolded her with rough hands. As her world turned black and she surrendered to their power, she felt her soul, which had been soaring with joy just moments ago, fill with despair and her mind cloud up with confusion.

  The Sharkans worked fast, winding a rope tightly around her body and pinning her arms to her sides until she resembled a ball of string. Once they were sure she could not move, they carried her behind the stables and tossed her onto the floor of their waiting cart like a package, banging her head painfully upon landing. They then turned their attention to their fallen comrades, one of whom was still groaning, while the other lay silent and motionless. They lifted them gently into the cart beside her. Three of the men clambered into the back while the fourth climbed up in front, took up the reins and urged the six black horses forward. They covered Rebecca and their wounded colleagues with hides as the cart lurched away, forcing them all to cling on to the sides.

  Rebecca urged herself to stay calm and think clearly. From the constant groans coming from the injured Sharkan, she guessed that she had probably broken his spine. She also reckoned that the one she had struck in the throat was dead. From her Kung Fu training she could judge with a high degree of certainty the outcome of any blow she inflicted.

  She felt sick at the thought that she had killed someone for the first time. Even though it had been in self-defence and she would have killed all of them if she had had a chance, she still felt bad to have taken a life.

  Unable to see anything through the blindfold, she had no idea where they were taking her. She felt as helpless as a fish on the deck of a fisherman’s boat. Lying face down she could do nothing to escape the full force of every rock and pot-hole the wheels of the cart went over. Waves of nausea threatened to overcome her and the pain was becoming unbearable. If it hadn’t been for the gag she would have been unable to suppress the screams. Her sword dug into her side and she felt her strength ebbing away.

  It felt as if the men had also trapped time in the net with her and were pulling it backwards. Every minute seemed like an hour and every hour like a year. Rebecca wondered if her abductors had been ordered to take her alive, because there was a strong possibility they would fail. She had made them angry and fearful, and so they had bound her too tightly, cutting off her circulation and the air she needed to breathe.

  She began to lose all sense of feeling, first in her legs and then in her arms, until her body seemed like an alien object - lifeless and bloodless. If the journey did not end soon, life would drain out of her. She forced herself to move her fingers and toes and summoned courage from the fact that she was not paralysed. She flared her nostrils and wrinkled and relaxed her forehead, eager to prove to herself that she was not yet crippled.

  She began to count how many movements she could make with her fingers and toes, how many with her nose, how many with her forehead. It was like a game, an exercise that kept her conscious as the hours dragged past.

  “These horses go too slowly,” she thought, her mind growing delirious. “If I were driving I’d go faster. I’ll probably die. Death is sweet. I’ll drive the horses... No, no! I don’t need a riding crop...”

  At one point, she thought she had been taken from the floor of the cart and had been tied to the back wheel. She felt she was spinning round and round with it, pain coursing through every part of her. She felt faint and her insides were churning. She kept losing consciousness but had no idea for how long. When she regained her senses, she heard creaking noises and felt the wheels turning before she sank back into a weird chaos.

  “The torture of the wheel,” she thought. “I know... I’ve read... I’d rather die... Am I delirious? I’d better not be... But why am I so numb? I wonder if my heart’s beating? It must be, because I can think... I feel so strange! Is death like this? If eternity is like this, how will I bear it?”

  ***

  It was already dark in the castle of Beast when the cart carrying Rebecca rattled through the gates and was swallowed into a mysterious, shining fog.

  Hauling her from the cart, her attackers bound her tightly in a bundle of hide and made their way up the stone staircase which led them into the King’s chamber with the girl on their shoulders, like traders delivering a roll of carpet.

  Once inside the chamber, they deposited their trophy on the stone floor and retreated as King Turgoth stepped forward, calmly surveying the gift they were presenting to him, like cats leaving a mouse before their master. At around forty years of age, Turgoth was a man in his prime - tall and strong with thick, dark hair falling to his shoulders. With a slender stiletto in his powerful hands, he slashed the outer ropes in a few quick movements. He clasped the edge of the hide and peeled it apart.

  Rebecca’s green eyes stared up through the net as she gasped for air, trying to suck a life-giving draft in past the gag. Her eyes widened as she looked up from the King’s boots to the face gazing down at her.

  As their eyes met, Turgoth felt a jolt, like a shock passing through him. The unfamiliar feeling puzzled him. Had he seen this girl before?

  The four Sharkans were standing beside him, also staring down at Rebecca as she lay trussed up in the net.

  “How is it that this slip of a girl managed to kill one of you and severely injure another?” Turgoth asked eventually, without taking his eyes off Rebecca’s face.

  When the Sharkans remained silent he swung round to face them.

  “Well? Is it not true?”

  The Sharkans stared at the floor, hoping the King would not force them to answer, but he remained silent, waiting for their reply.

  “Yes,” one of them eventually muttered. “Yes, Your Majesty. It is true.”

  Turgoth shook his head sadly, like a teacher disappointed in h
is pupils, and gestured in the direction of the door. The Sharkans shuffled out with their eyes still on the floor.

  Once they were gone Turgoth dropped to his knees beside Rebecca. The stiletto flashed once more, making her jump. He smiled, and with a few deft movements, cut her free of the net and slashed through the rest of the bindings that held her.

  As he worked she noticed how prominent the veins on his wrists were, like a dense network of swollen rivers and tributaries, ready to break their banks and overflow.

  She remained silent, not wanting him to see how much pain she was in as the blood started to flow through her body once more. The ropes had left ugly welts across her arms and legs and she saw Turgoth’s eyes lingering on them as if he was considering how to soothe them. She tentatively moved her cramped body but couldn’t find the strength to stand.

  She felt Turgoth’s hands under her arms as he gently lifted her to her feet, as if she weighed no more than a feather. He kept hold of her for a few seconds after she was standing until he could be sure that she was able to balance herself. To her surprise, Rebecca found herself waiting a moment before nodding that she was steady, not wanting him to let go.

  Turgoth gestured imperiously to a sofa but Rebecca ignored his request, wary of a possible trap. He gestured again, more politely.

  She glowered at him angrily as she sat, feeling her spirits returning.

  “So, you are the notorious Rebecca,” he said.

  “Notorious?”

  “Everybody in Utopia is talking about you.” He pulled up a chair and sat, looking her up and down with genuine curiosity.

  “This is an outrage!” Rebecca spat. “Why have you brought me here?”

  Turgoth toyed with the stiletto, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from hers.

  “This isn’t personal. You know we’re at war. It was a strategic decision. I’ve heard a lot about you. That is why I broke the ancient agreements in order to bring you here and I would like to apologise for the way my men treated you.”

  “Oh? And from whom have your heard a lot about me?”

  He looked up and gave a tight lipped smile, indicating that he did not intend to divulge any information he didn’t want to. She stared defiantly back. The atmosphere between them was more than hostile; it was electric!

  After a pause, Turgoth stabbed the stiletto deep into the arm of the chair and left it there as he stood up and walked towards a table. He lifted a jug of water and filled a cup, offering it to Rebecca.

  She refused to even acknowledge the gesture, staring obstinately up at him, daring him to try and charm her. After a few seconds he wordlessly placed the cup beside her and returned to his seat. The look of amusement which she thought she could detect in his eyes only served to make her more furious.

  “I’ve heard you are a great fighter,” he said. “I don’t want to kill you. I want you to leave Utopia and fight on our side.”

  Rebecca took a slow, deep breath. She shook her head.

  “Never!” she hissed.

  2

  18 years earlier

  The English fog obscured virtually every star in the night sky and the hoot of an owl pierced the stillness of the cold air.

  The sudden roar of a car engine sent the owl flapping through the canopy of foliage above the edges of the forest clearing. The car’s headlights raked through the trees until it came to a halt at the corner of the clearing.

  The driver’s door opened and a man stepped into the beams of the headlights. Tall, with thick black hair, Julius was in his forties and powerfully built. His piercing green eyes scanned the surrounding trees, checking for any sign of movement before looking down at his watch and giving a satisfied nod.

  As if on cue a blue and white glow filled the clouds of fog as they drifted above the treetops and Julius grinned as he stared up at what looked like an approaching comet. He waited patiently as the ball of white and blue fluorescence slowly faded and a large spherical spaceship materialized before him.

  He remembered his father’s explanation when he had experienced this particular sight for the first time: “In order to keep the balance between Good and Evil, my son, and prevent the Earth from ever again being destroyed, a fleet of star ships was built that would be capable of travelling between the Earth and Utopia. These craft are powered by the same energy that gives the Orizons their power: the Sacred Flame. This is how it has been since antiquity and how it still is today.”

  A door on the side of the craft slid open and, as a crystal staircase unfolded to the ground, Julius watched Princess Felicia appear at the top of the steps. Her legendary beauty was undimmed. An exquisitely feminine figure with wonderful black eyes and a cascade of ebony hair falling over her shoulders, she wore white leather shorts, revealing long athletic legs, and her top was adorned with a blue sun emblem. Her boots and belt were also blue and the belt’s clasp was a white crystal sun. She seemed to exude a glow as she descended the staircase with her radiant smile and flawlessly smooth complexion.

  Doctor Afterland, still strangely youthful despite his flowing white hair, followed in her wake. His long, white, ancient Greek style robe was emblazoned with the same sun emblem. His open expression and gentle blue eyes couldn’t disguise the formidable inner strength that still dwelt within his elderly frame.

  Behind the doctor loomed the bulk of Bull, the Minotaur, at over seven feet tall with a muscular human body and the mighty head of a bull. His twinkling blue eyes made him appear kind and likeable despite his intimidating size. His white emblazoned vest and skirt reflected gladiatorial style. From his blue belt hung four beautifully crafted crystal daggers.

  Julius bowed low to Felicia and kissed her hand with deep respect.

  “Welcome, Princess Felicia,” he said.

  “It’s good to see you, Julius,” she replied, bathing him in a radiant smile.

  “Hello, Doctor Afterland,” Julius said, straightening up and offering his hand to the doctor.

  “Nice to see you again, Julius,” the Doctor said as they shook hands with genuine warmth, “especially on such a happy occasion.” As if to illustrate his point, he held up a small crystal lantern within which burned a blue light: The Sacred Flame of the White Sun.

  “Indeed! And Bull, a pleasure as always, my good friend.”

  “Ah, Julius, our secret agent. How are you? MI6?” The Minotaur laughed with a mighty roar.

  “MI6? I sometimes wish we had you here on Earth, Bull! But at least in the secret service I can be of some help.”

  Bull hugged Julius to his mighty chest before pulling back to watch as Julius led Felicia and Afterland to the car and ushered them in. With a friendly wave to Bull, Julius climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

  Once the car had disappeared into the night, the Minotaur re-entered the spaceship. A few seconds later it, too, vanished softly into the fog, leaving behind only the gentle sound of rustling leaves.

  ***

  After a short journey, the car pulled into the driveway of Julius’s house. The front door opened and Adrianna stepped outside. It was obvious she was heavily pregnant despite the fact that she was wearing a loose-flowing gown. Her thick, brown hair reached down to her waist and her large, light blue-grey eyes contrasted with her olive complexion. Welcoming the visitors with a beaming smile, she ran into Felicia’s open arms, hugging her as if she never wanted to let her go. Eventually, the two women parted and she greeted Doctor Afterland before leading them both into the living room of the house.

  Afterland looked Adrianna up and down, approvingly.

  “Are you ready, my child?” he asked.

  “I am!”

  The Doctor reverently handed the Flame to Felicia, took Adrianna’s hand, and together they went upstairs.

  Felicia and Julius sat down to wait but within only a few minutes they
heard a baby’s cry and sprang back to their feet as Afterland, beaming with satisfaction, strode back into the room.

  “It’s a girl!” he announced.

  Felicia, the Flame still in her hands, hurried towards the bedroom, with Julius close behind. The newborn baby girl was crying in her mother’s arms and they watched as Doctor Afterland cut the umbilical cord with a flourish.

  Felicia touched the baby gently, carefully placing the Flame on the severed umbilical cord. The baby immediately stopped crying as the power of the Flame flowed in through the cord, the blue glow spreading to the baby’s belly.

  A few seconds later, Felicia gently withdrew the Flame and the doctor tied the cord with nimble fingers.

  “What will her name be?” asked the Princess.

  Adrianna looked up at Julius, and he nodded.

  “Rebecca,” she said.

  Felicia’s voice rang out: “I name thee Rebecca!”

  Felicia held the Flame next to the baby’s face, allowing her to breath in the warm air. The child’s face radiated with joy as Julius bent forward and kissed Adrianna tenderly on the forehead.

  “I love you. Thank you,” he said, before turning to Felicia and Afterland. “And thank you, both!”

  “She’s a beautiful baby,” Felicia smiled. “And she’ll grow to become a beautiful Orizon woman!”

  ***

  A few minutes later, Adrianna, holding Rebecca in her arms, was waving goodbye as they climbed back into Julius’s car.

  “How are things developing?” Felicia asked as they drove.

  “Sadly, the situation is grave in these new states,” Julius said, “but I still have hope.”

  “We have heard this from the other Orizons too,” she said. “They hope to avert war as you do, but terrorism is getting worse. We will be watching and will help all we can.”

  “And we will keep in close contact,” Afterland added.