The Phoenix Chronicles: Alone in the Light (Book ONE)

by M. K. Williams

  However, it wasn’t long before Kristian was sending bolts of energy from his right hand. Within an hour of beginning the training he was throwing bolts, varying in size from that of a tennis ball to that of a large beach ball, across the room. Yi-Mao was quick to point out the reliance on his right hand and explained that this could cause problems in the future. Kristian’s response was to attempt to send some energy bolts from his left hand. They were not as strong, but even Yi-Mao could not argue that they were feeble.

  “Good, but you still have a lot to work on, you must continue developing your concentration technique, you can’t keep shutting your eyes like that. They are one of your greatest assets when fighting an enemy.”

  Kristian nodded. He knew Yi-Mao would notice all these faults, but he knew how necessary it was for Yi-Mao to be critical; it was just so hard to concentrate with his eyes open!

  “With more practice and lots of focus I’m sure that you will improve your technique, I have every faith in you,” Yi-Mao smiled at Kristian then went on to say, “shall we move on to the tricky stuff now?” Yi-Mao again began to walk in a circle around Kristian. “How well do you remember object projection training?”

  “Umm,” replied a dubious Kristian. He did remember the techniques but still he doubted his abilities. “There’s the rope, the dagger, the hand and the, um, general forces. Is that right, Master?”

  “Very good. That’s the basics. Now show me them all,” said Yi-Mao who walked over to the far wall, picked up a chair from the darkened corner and returned to the centre of the duelling ring with it. Kristian looked at the chair and wondered which object he could use on it. The rope or the hand would probably be easiest; maybe he should start with the hand. He closed his eyes and stretched out his hand once more. Suddenly remembering his Master’s critiques, he opened his eyes and tried to concentrate. Using the same technique as before, he reached inside himself and called Saranthea forward. He began to imagine a hand gripping the bottom of the chair. Realising he had his eyes shut, yet again, he opened them to see that nothing had happened. Staring intently at the chair, he tried again. Suddenly he saw a blur of dull jade light, lit at the very spot he was focused on. It was not as he imagined; it wasn’t hand-shaped, but more like a ball of light fixed around the chair’s leg. In his mind, using his imagination, he could see the chair lift off the ground and hover in the air. The real chair did not levitate as he had hoped, in fact, it barely moved. Trying even harder than before, he saw it lift up again in his mind. Again, the chair did not respond as he had hoped. It slowly began to float but its rise was not as smooth and weightless as it had been in his thoughts. It jerked about, up and down, side to side until eventually the green ball of light disappeared and the chair fell back down the couple of inches it had risen. He looked at Yi-Mao, expecting a look of disappointment and frustration.

  “For a first attempt, that was not so bad,” was Yi-Mao’s response. He patted the young man on the back, “Why not try it again with a different object, perhaps the rope?”

  Kristian was feeling out of breath as if he had just returned from a jog; he really wanted to pack it in for the day. “Can we take a break?”

  Yi-Mao’s response was cold and instant, “No. Now. Your enemies in combat will not let you have a break every time you need to catch your breath. Through pain and hard work come results. Now come on. Try again.”

  Kristian was shocked by his tone, but he was unwilling to argue with this great man. Kristian agreed that the rope was the best option against the chair. The rope was a good skill and one he had managed to pull off a few times before when he had first learnt the technique. It enabled the Phoenix to project a rope-like energy, which would wrap itself around one’s opponent or object and completely imprison them.

  Stretching his arm out, he closed his hand so his fingers met his thumb, forming an ‘O’ shape if looked at from above. Not closing his eyes this time, he began to reach inside himself once more. He was so tired and he felt completely drained. Imagining the rope lasso resting in the gap in his hand, he could begin to see the green disk form on the top of his index finger and thumb. That was the easy part! Staying completely focused, he flicked his wrist and arm as if throwing a lasso through the air. With his hand in mid-swing, he opened his palm and released a ring of radiant green energy. As the ring flew seamlessly through the air, it expanded to a size that would easily fit around the chair. Using his outstretched fingers to control the rope’s direction, he attempted to lasso the chair. It wrapped itself around the chair, but around the legs, not the back as he had hoped. With a mighty crunch, the rope squeezed the chair’s legs together. It instantly exploded and shards of wood flew in every direction.

  Yi-Mao reacted instantly with non-palm projection, as a formidable yellow shield encased him to deflect shards of wood. Kristian dived to the floor placing his hands over his head. After a few seconds, he looked up at Yi-Mao’s perfectly projected shield and was inspired to produce an equally good one through non-palm projection.

  “Well, if your intention was not to catch your opponent but to split them in two, you certainly succeeded,” said a smiling Yi-Mao as his yellow shield lowered.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was going for,” replied an embarrassed Kristian, giggling.

  “Perhaps we should move on and try the non-palm projection,” Yi-Mao said as he watched Kristian get back to his feet.

  Kristian felt worse, he remembered that his non-palm projection was terrible and was feeling even more drained from the day’s efforts. “What do you want me to project?” he asked hesitantly.

  “The basics again. A shield to start with, then maybe a bolt or two,” Yi-Mao replied.

  The technique for non-palm projection was the same as before but this time he had to produce the Kar’sin energy without using his hands as a base. It required a vast deal more concentration and a much better grasp of the surroundings and one’s place in it. Closing his mind he began to pull his Phoenix through. He imagined his hand stretched out, but kept his hands firmly beside him. He began to imagine his palm opening with a bright green light emanating from it. In his mind’s eye he could see the energy build up around his hand, much the same as in the palm projection. He continued to build the shield up in his mind. Again, he had his eyes closed and when he quickly peeked through half-closed eyelids, he could see no shield in front of him, no green energy.

  He tried again, but it felt like he was fighting a losing battle. Trying harder than he thought possible he focused on the image in his head, on the thought of the light radiating from his hand. His breathing quickened, as did his heartbeat. He kept delving deep within himself, pouring more and more energy into the imaginary shield.

  Yi-Mao was just off centre to him, his gaze locked on to Kristian. Bright jade-coloured sparks were lighting up in front of them but disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The sparks were about a metre in front of Kristian and seemed to appear as from nowhere. The eighth spark he conjured materialised and moulded itself into a ball and then started to spread out like a starfish.

  Its size quickly doubled and soon it was covering the young man’s chest. Suddenly, Kristian lost his concentration, and the jade green light vanished. Relaxing his body, he took a deep breath.

  “You did well. You almost had it back there. But you gave up too quickly,” Yi-Mao remarked.

  Kristian, angry with himself, out of breath and panting, snapped back at his master, “My chest was hurting and I couldn’t breathe, my head’s pounding.”

  “That pain would have left you once the shield was fully formed. You must learn to push yourself more,” said Yi-Mao completely unfazed by Kristian’s tone of voice.

  “What?” Kristian snapped. “My chest really hurts, it’s not easy,” Kristian was incredulous. He knew that not many in the Order would dare speak to Yi-Mao like this, but he didn’t care, he was exhausted and he had tried his best.

  “No, it is not easy, and I know it hurts, but as long as it hurts, yo
u know you are still alive and that will not be for long if you do not practise your technique. Or indeed, if you speak to me in that tone again,” Yi-Mao’s first comment was seriously meant, the second, less so. However, Kristian’s frustration made him feel more than peeved. He was angry with Yi-Mao! Kristian believed Yi-Mao was being selfish and unfairly pushing him this hard after his two years’ absence from the Order.

  Who did he think he was, telling him not to talk to him like that? He was an adult and he was doing Yi-Mao a favour, and he all was getting in return was criticism and he was being patronised too.

  “These basic skills should be second nature to you, your life will depend on it,” Yi-Mao spoke, noticing the irritation on Kristian’s face.

  “Second nature?” shouted Kristian. “You’re aware, are you not, that I’ve been out of the loop for two years? You know I’m not suited for this crap, so cut me some slack will you? God, it doesn’t help having this sensation in my chest. I’m exhausted and I need a break. What am I doing back here? I knew this was a mistake. I’m going to get us all killed.”

  Yi-Mao was silent as he walked towards Kristian when the two were almost nose to nose, he said in a calm voice, “You are here because we need you; that burning in your chest is your Phoenix acknowledging that she is in the presence of another. She has a lot respect for her peers, as you apparently do not. You cannot have a break, you must push yourself. Only then will you achieve your optimum best, and I expect nothing less from you. Two years away from the Order or not, it makes no difference to Saranthea, and nor should it to you. You are a Phoenix host, and that is all there is to it.”

  As his master spoke, anger once again spread across Kristian’s face.

  “Good,” whispered Yi-Mao, “anger and aggression will only make you stronger, as long as you can focus that aggression. Use it to produce some truly remarkable bolts through non-palm projection.” As he finished he retreated back several metres.

  Kristian eventually responded well to these words. Fine, if he wants me to send a bolt of energy at him, so be it, he thought.

  He turned his body towards Yi-Mao. With his eyes open, he again focused on his anger and frustration and began to mould the energy within him into a bolt of light, and in his mind, he saw it head straight in Yi-Mao’s direction. Without warning, dazzling jade light emanated from his chest where it formed a huge bolt, which sped quickly and powerfully towards the old man. Kristian fell back due to the force of the bolt he had just produced.

  Yi-Mao stretched out his palms and a small intense yellow field of energy twisted out from them, forming a whirling palm-sized bowl. The green bolt hit Yi-Mao’s yellow swirling saucer with immense force but Yi-Mao did not move. Within seconds, the yellow light spiralled further and then completely engulfed the dwindling green energy. Closing his palms, Yi-Mao seemed to absorb the energy into his being.

  Kristian regained his balance; he was totally amazed. He had never seen anything like that before.

  Rolling his eyes, Yi-Mao smiled at him and said, “Well, I bet you couldn’t do that again on demand.”

  Kristian’s amazement turned again to anger and he proceeded to launch another powerful bolt of energy from his chest. Yi-Mao was startled by the speed of this bolt and he arched his body backwards to avoid the high-speed bolt from hitting him. It raced past him and ploughed into the wall.

  A huge thud rocked the room. As Yi-Mao squinted through the dust and smoke, he twisted his head sideways and was able to perceive a huge breach in the stonewall.

  As the smoke and dust cleared, two faces could clearly be seen peering through the hole. They looked in complete shock. It was Jean and Sam, they were on a field training tactical course in the next room. Turning his head back to face a very embarrassed Kristian, Yi-Mao spoke quietly, “Actually, it’s probably best if you don’t do that again, at least not in here!” he let out a small chuckle and moved towards Kristian.

  “I’m so sorry, Master,” said a red-faced Kristian. He suddenly felt very small and was ashamed of his earlier outburst at Yi-Mao.

  “Walls can be rebuilt; young men sadly cannot, not even by the remarkable Dr. Gambon. Remember that, you will be much harder to replace than that wall. Now I think I will take this as my cue to leave you. Please keep practising until the six o’clock meeting. I will not be there, as I have to leave in a few hours. Andrew will be continuing your training tomorrow, please resist trying to blow him up!” As he finished speaking, Yi-Mao bowed to Kristian and placed his hand on his shoulder. Squeezing it gently he said, “Be careful, be safe. And remember, your Phoenix chose you, listen to her when she speaks to you, that’s all she asks.” Kristian returned the bow as Yi-Mao slowly turned and made his way towards the door.

  “Master,” Yi-Mao slowly turned back around on hearing Kristian’s words. “Thank you for today. You may not think it but I’ve remembered a lot and have learnt much from you. I know I’m a pain in the arse and I don’t mean to be, it’s just…” He stopped mid-flow as he realised this conversation was not entirely exclusive. His gaze fell upon the hole in the wall, and on to Jean and Sam who were listening intently from the other side.

  “Just do me one thing,” Yi-Mao said.

  “What’s that, Master?”

  “For the love of Gaia, PRACTISE!” Yi-Mao grinned widely and made his way out of the door. Kristian smiled back and watched his mentor leave. Something inside him made him wonder if he would see him again and the thought worried him. It would not take too long to complete this mission and then he would be back to his normal life, the life he wanted. Or was it? Did he still want it? Kristian felt uneasy as he questioned himself. What else would he do once the mission was completed? He couldn’t stay in the Order; or maybe he could? The thought did not provoke the same fear in him it once had. The idea of staying here, amongst these people he called friends, was not so scary anymore, in fact it comforted him to think of himself here with Sam, Jean and Rachel. Maybe this was the life he was supposed to have; and if so, then maybe he was born to fight.

  “Hey! Aren’t you two supposed to be training?” he said as he turned his attention to Sam and Jean, who replied in harmony, “Yeah we are, but you’re the one who blew a hole in our training room!” Kristian laughed, turned away and spoke under his breath proudly, “Yeah, yeah I did.”

  …

  Jonathon and Brendan had been sitting in the main conference room for over an hour and as time ticked on and approached six o’clock, the two men were lost in discussion at the far end of the huge table. The reason for their pre-meeting was cloaked in secrecy. No minutes were taken and no one knew that the meeting was taking place, except the two of them. The room was dimly lit, shadows were cast on their faces. They both seemed tense and worried.

  “Of course, I’ll continue looking into it, but to assign Amar, Karnel and Sam to it seems pointless. Over the past two years only one lead has ever been generated from Sauror,” Brendan’s voice was dry and croaky.

  “The more I think about it, the more concerned I become. The whole Sauror thing, the strange death of Oliver, the diminishing relations with Tivernal. It all points to troubled times ahead,” Jonathon’s whisper was softer, and more audible than Brendan’s.

  “Jonathon, we’ve faced many things in the past. Some stranger and more terrifying than I had ever imagined possible and we have always come through. If there is trouble ahead, we shall face it and overcome it.”

  “I wish I shared your optimism, but something doesn’t feel right this time. I fear there are far deadlier forces at work here,” Jonathon said as Brendan raised himself off the chair.

  “Hmm, it does feel strange I agree, but that’s only because we have been one step behind. As soon as we get on top of it, find out what’s really been going on, it won’t look so bad,” Brendan’s tone deceived his words. He was clearly agitated and as he paced the length of the room, looking up at the magnificent paintings that adorned the walls, his face fell into a deep, thoughtful frown.

 
; “Yes, you are probably correct. But when are we going to get on top of it? I’m running out of patience and our resources are stretched to the max as it is,” as Jonathon spoke he too joined Brendan’s pace around the room. The two men came to a halt and looked at one another. Brendan had always admired Jonathon’s leadership, even though he secretly believed that a Phoenix should lead the Order.

  “I will find you a lead, my friend. It will all become clear soon enough,” Brendan said, sounding determined.

  “Thank you Brendan and we shall get that lead together,” replied Jonathon.

  “Together it is,” said Brendan, walking back over to the table, “have you thought about bringing someone like Peter in on this? I admit I’m not his biggest fan, but he may have some knowledge of what the sign could be.”

  “Ah, I doubt he will be able to help. I have already checked the records and there is only one source that remotely knows what the symbol is,” said Jonathon, looking up at the portrait above him.

  “The diaries of Alexander Surich?” said Brendan.

  “Yes and a lot of good that was,” Jonathon released his gaze from the portrait and returned slowly to his seat.

  “Well, you and I are the only two who have seen it on Sauror’s chest. No one else here knows anything about it and Sam didn’t even pick it up when he entered Sauror’s mind,” said Brendan as he too returned to his seat and continued, “which means that Sauror has found a way to block Sam, which is an altogether unsavoury thought. Or someone else is blocking Sam’s powers. He did mention to me that he felt a strange sensation when he was searching the other day for that vampire’s victim.”

  Jonathon frowned and looked down at the papers in front of him.

  “Perhaps the symbol was burnt into Sauror’s chest without him knowing; or after being marked, he might have had his memory wiped. Either way it does not bode well for the investigation. So what exactly do the diaries of Alexander Surich say about the symbol?” Brendan let out a long sigh and looked at Jonathon intently.