The Phoenix Chronicles_Alone in the Light

by M. K. Williams

  Jonathon stood up, enraged. “I think this meeting is at an end.”

  “So do I,” Leceth said menacingly, rising from his seat. “A word of warning, young man. Don’t ever summon me in this fashion again if all your evidence is just a few stolen, meaningless documents,” Leceth swiftly turned on his heel and walked away. Isobel remained seated and looked over her shoulder at Leceth.

  Before exiting, he made a grand gesture with his hand and said, “Oh, and I would like my ‘heirloom’ back, Jonathon. As soon as possible,” Leceth punctuated the end of his demand by swinging both doors open and storming out of the room.

  Isobel rose to her feet. Jonathon glared after her and spoke softly. “How can you pretend to be so blind? What are you playing at?”

  Isobel turned to face him and gave him a stern, cold look. “What am I playing at?” she hissed. “You came to Leceth with this?” she threw the report on to the table. “I should ask ‘What are you playing at?’ You’re going to have to do much better than this, Jonathon, for both our sakes. You knew this was weak, hence why you haven’t gone straight to the Arbitrators. All you have done right now is tip off Leceth that you’re monitoring him.”

  As she finished she elegantly walked out. Jonathon was frozen in thought.

  The doors closed behind her and she could see Leceth nearing the entrance, her unbeating heart skipped an imaginary beat as she could see Kristian moving towards him.

  Brendan and Roman were deep in conversation with each other and appeared not to have noticed the unfolding precipitous situation.

  “Leceth!” Kristian spat as he made a few strides to position himself directly behind him.

  Leceth turned around and as his eyes took in the young man, a large grin appeared on his face.

  “Oh, Mr. Wallace? A pleasure to actually meet you in person,” Leceth stretched out his hand for Kristian to shake.

  Kristian stood unmoving in front of the vampire; a mix of emotions overwhelmed his thoughts as he paused and stared at the outstretched hand.

  “Take it,” a soft, gentle feminine voice said over Kristian’s shoulder.

  Isobel took up Kristian’s side. “Are you okay?” she directed her question to the young Phoenix Host.

  Leceth kept his hand outstretched as his eyes scanned Isobel, she too locked her eyes on Leceth searching his face for intention. Something about her look towards Kristian’s enemy revealed something about her. Her tone of voice unnerved Kristian slightly; he quickly hid his thoughts and controlled his expression to as cold and hard a one as he could muster.

  Kristian, for a second, glanced at Isobel before his eyes quickly flicked back onto Leceth. Isobel’s words and gestures reasserted themselves in Kristian’s mind and for an unknown reason he found himself starting to trust them and feel comfort in them. It was then he remembered that he had felt this strangeness from a vampire before.

  “Yes, are you okay, boy?” Leceth said.

  “I’m good, thank you. Will be better soon,” Kristian said as he glared into Leceth’s eyes.

  “Everything okay here?” a slightly panicked Jonathon asked, as he marched over having exited the room.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” Isobel said, her eyes connecting again with Leceth’s.

  “Yes. All is fine,” Leceth remarked.

  Jonathon moved to Kristian’s side and placed his arm over his shoulder. “Are you all right, Kristian?”

  Kristian looked at Jonathon and could see the concern in his eyes, concern for his safety or worry that Kristian was going to do something very rash.

  “Yes. I just wanted to meet Leceth.” As Kristian spoke he finally took Leceth’s hand. He shook it hard. Pulling his hand back Kristian felt a dig into his hand from the few rings that Leceth was wearing. As Leceth freed his hand and moved it away he noticed Kristian eyeing his rings.

  Leceth raised his hand to face level so Kristian could see the rings in their glory. Kristian took in the detail of the three bands, all appearing exquisite in their own right. Two of them seemed very chunky, whilst one was slim.

  “Admiring my rings?” Leceth asked over his raised hand. Kristian glared at the rings and then into Leceth’s eyes. He had heared the vampire’s words but did not respond.

  Turning his hand to admire them himself Leceth spoke confidently, breaking the awkward silence. “They are nice, aren’t they? They remind me of what I was. I like to have a little something from before I was sired.”

  Leceth chuckled to himself at some personal joke. “Well I’m busy and have wasted enough time here. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  Leceth exited the building, his security scuttling in his wake. Isobel left the building moments later without even a backwards glance.

  Kristian and Jonathon watched the Council representatives walk down the steps and into their cars. Kristian wondered how he kept his composure as he remembered staring into Leceth’s eyes. He had wanted to hurt him, he had wanted to kill him. A surge of anger welled inside as Kristian felt like he had missed an opportunity to strike his enemy down.

  “What the hell are we going to do?” said the young Phoenix, his anger scrawled all over his tone.

  “I’m sorry, but there is not much we can do in the immediate. The proof we have is a start, not enough to make any meaningful accusations. We may think we know the truth, but we can’t fight him on our whims,” Jonathon explained, attempting to ease Kristian’s aggression.

  His words did nothing to quell Kristian’s anger, it seemed to fuel his rage further.

  “So that’s it? I’m still a wanted man? And the man who tried to kill me, who killed Oliver, just walks free?”

  “No, it’s not like that. You’re not wanted anymore, I doubt that Leceth will follow up the investigation into the deaths at the warehouse. In addition, we will not just let him go! We will keep investigating. Leceth is bold, but he is not stupid. We must tread carefully.”

  “He needs to pay,” Kristian said darkly.

  “We will deal with him in time, but not in the ways you are thinking. We will do it my way,” Jonathon said sternly.

  “Your way isn’t working, is it?” Kristian barked back.

  “In time, Kristian, these things take time,” Jonathon said more calmly now, his hand finding Kristian’s shoulder.

  Kristian did not care for any more of Jonathon’s words. He looked at his boss with contempt, shoved Jonathon’s hand off his shoulder and stormed off. Jonathon shouted for him to come back but he was ignored.

  As Jonathon looked over towards Brendan, Roman and now Andrew, he spoke to himself. “Okay, round one to you, Leceth. But this is far from over.”

  …

  - Chapter Twenty-One -

  The Present, the Past, the Foretold

  The last few months had been one long roller coaster ride of emotions for Kristian. For someone who had once been so determined to hide his true thoughts, he was finding it incredibly hard to cope with all his feelings spiralling within. He walked into his allocated living quarters in the Order’s Headquarters and slammed the door behind him hard.

  “God,” he shouted out as he put his fist through the door of the cabinet near his bed. He paced around the room, thoughts overwhelming; a voice deep within was trying to talk him out of what he was planning to do. The promise he had made to Oliver did not seem so unbreakable anymore. He went to give the cabinet door another punch with the same fist when the door he had just slammed suddenly opened and Jonathon walked in.

  “Get out!” shouted Kristian.

  Jonathon ignored Kristian’s outburst, he walked across the room and sat on Kristian’s bed. Kristian glared angrily at him. “You need to work on your attitude, young man. You can’t keep letting your emotions get the better of you,” Jonathon’s tone was not that of an angry superior, but his words did feel to Kristian to be a little threatening.

  Kristian could not be bothered to listen to anything else that Jonathon had to say. He had heard enough of his excuses. Kristian had convinced him
self he knew what needed to be done and was going to do it. He decided that if Jonathon was not going to leave then he would, compelling him to make his way for the door. Jonathon instantly leapt up to prevent him from leaving.

  “Come on, now. Why are you so angry? Why are you so stuck on getting revenge? The problem with Leceth affects us all Kristian, not just you,” Jonathon said, holding the door and maneuvering himself in the way.

  “Does it? Well I think it affects others more than it affects you, doesn’t it? Look at Oliver. It affected him, didn’t it! Whilst you sat at your desk, bumbling along, calling meetings and making yourself feel important,” Kristian knew he was crossing the line, but the anger and the injustice that he felt inside him was so strong it began to spill over. A few days ago he had been having fun with his friends, believing that Leceth would soon be arrested, dealt with. After which Kristian would then be able to stay in the Order, content. But now, after glimpsing into the eyes of evil, he felt so different from what he felt days ago. Leceth had won, again, and easily at that. Kristian had come to his own conclusion that Jonathon’s evidence had been laughable in hindsight; Kristian believed Leceth had planned for every outcome. He was obviously involved in a much deeper and darker plan than the Order suspected and Kristian wanted him punished, he wanted to punish him.

  “Oliver died to keep the world safe, he wouldn’t want the peace destroyed in his name. You are the one who abandoned him to lead your ‘normal life.’ If you had known him half as well as you think you did then you would know that he would not want revenge for his death,” Jonathon pleaded.

  “How dare you!” Kristian exclaimed; the words Jonathon had uttered stung, a part of him knew that they were true. “You are the one sending people to their deaths; do you enjoy your job, Jonathon, makes you feel big and special, hey?”

  Jonathon’s expression changed, Kristian had hit a nerve and he could not help but looked outraged. Kristian had never seen this look on Jonathon’s face before. He suddenly seemed taller and bigger than Kristian had ever seen him. Jonathon now towered over him and bellowed in an aggressive voice.

  “If you knew anything at all about the Order, you would know that I send brave men and women out to do the job they love and feel is important. You’re a selfish and irresponsible child, you left this place because you couldn’t handle the responsibility given to you and now you act like its saviour. It is not your job to get justice for Oliver, and how dare you assume it is. Don’t think that you are the only person around here who gives a damn. Because you’re not. We all have burdens to bear, just that some of us act like adults and professionals.” Jonathon turned to face the door and stormed out; he could not endure any more of Kristian’s emotional adolescence.

  “Well, if you care then do something about it. The peace is just an illusion. When will you wake up? When will you see the battlefront?” Kristian shouted out the door. The words Jonathon had spoken had hit every nerve in his body. Kristian knew Jonathon was speaking truth, deep down Kristian knew it, but right now it did nothing to alleviate his anger, his inescapable desire for vengeance.

  …

  It had been over an hour since Kristian had had his altercation with Jonathon; he was now lying on his bed. He pondered on the whole situation that he had initially reluctantly stumbled into. He often believed that he was a master at keeping his emotions at bay. Well, all of them bar anger, he thought. The constant battle of logic versus his heart had been a laborious and strenuous exercise that had left him tired, his very will fractured.

  His head rested against the pillow, his palms covered tightly closed eyes. Images of Oliver, Leceth, Jess, Kieran and the Jakyll stung his retinas. The ache within his mind was only dulled by the wrenching within his heart.

  What can I do? How can I stay here? What kind of man am I? How do I avenge Oliver? What about Sagara? Questions came in a constant stream through his mind, at times speaking them aloud, not once giving an answer in words or in his mind. As the questions filled his thoughts he ignored them one by one, thinking that there was no possible answer and therefore putting them away to the back of his mind was his only option.

  As Kristian continued in this vein he soon found himself left with two questions which he couldn’t quieten; both seemed unrelated but felt connected: ‘How do I avenge Oliver?’ and ‘What about Sagara?’

  Their answers brought him to the same violent conclusion: he felt the urge for vengeance and the need to fulfil the promise he had made to Oliver to destroy that urn.

  He knew that the plan he was concocting would mean leaving the Order again, but this time for good. He could not comprehend death, especially his own, but knew it was part of his destiny. Facing Leceth and killing him was a choice he was unsure if he had made yet. One thought though plagued his mind above all others: that he had to read it again. Reading it was the driving force that had compelled him to run and hide before; he longed to hide from it again, but he could not escape the Sagara Prophecy.

  …

  Kristian found himself in the Great Library for the second time since his return. As he sat at one of the oddly placed desks in the Great Hall, a tall middle-aged lady dressed in a tight grey suit strolled up to him and placed a small brown box in front of him. She tilted her head as she put it down and proffered a clipboard with a document attached for him to sign.

  After scribbling his name she quickly moved off and left him alone. His hands caressed the box before gently flicking the clip. It opened to reveal several documents bound together; as he lifted them out he could see a glass panel at the bottom underneath which was the original prophecy. The paper was stained yellow with age and the text was in script that Kristian could not read. He stroked the glass as a symbolic gesture to get closer to the prophecy.

  From the pile of folders he had placed on the desk he sifted through them looking for the most recent entry; he found and pulled out a thick wedge of A4 paper bound at the side.

  The cover of this sheaf had a serial number at the top:

  P: AZX32 N:015 T: E

  The title of the document was The Fifteenth Translation of the Sagara Prophecy. Kristian had read this before, as he held it in his hands that moment felt like yesterday, not well over two years ago. As he read over the summary he was left with nothing but fear; everything he held dear in his life was destined to end; all the things he loved would have to endure a war the likes of which he could scarcely imagine.

  He read through the translation of the prophecy, all three chapters, though none of them made sense to him. They appeared to him as riddles, puzzles to be deciphered. He pondered on the usefulness of such a prophecy and why someone would have felt the need to warn of such evils and to do so in such a cryptic way. He wondered if he was dim-witted. Obviously it made sense to Mr. Eddingtons, the author, Kristian thought.

  The only thing that he felt for sure he understood was that this prophecy predicted a war and the end of the Phoenixes. He had been told when he was young, by Zel, by what Kristian believed to be a higher power, that this prophecy was to come to pass soon, in Kristian’s lifetime. Kristian believed it now, he was more sure reading it again of what he now had to do. Oliver was a part of this and had asked him to do something and he was going to do it, he just didn’t or couldn’t understand why. The prophecy that lay before him brought more questions than it answered, it shed no light on to why he would have to destroy some urn. He had made a promise, he needed to free Ethalon.

  “And what is this you are reading?” the voice of Saresh bellowed from afar. “You are just the man I wanted to see. Wait there,” Saresh darted off as Kristian began to place the documents back into the box. He didn’t want to have another conversation but before he could leave Saresh was already returning.

  “I’m sorry but I have a meeting to attend,” Kristian lied as he clipped the box shut.

  “Oh. No worries, I won’t take up too much of your time,” Saresh said as he held a book up high and placed it on the desk. “Sit,” Saresh directe
d.

  Kristian fell back into the seat as the librarian flicked open the book.

  “What’s this about?” Kristian asked.

  “It’s about the name. I have done a little bit of research myself,” Saresh said, feeling accomplished with his work.

  Kristian felt a little delight at this odd man’s unwarranted assistance. Soon Saresh flicked to the page he was looking for.

  “There,” Saresh pointed to the page. The title made Kristian’s eyes widen.

  Solasis Krull – it was bold at the top of the right-hand page.

  “This book is a consolidation research text,” Saresh said looking at Kristian’s blank face. “Excuse me. Put simply it’s a reference book detailing previous investigations, a good tool to use when you start your own investigations,” Saresh spoke joyfully.

  The old man began to point out images and ran his finger over certain sentences.

  “See, I was right. It suggests that Solasis is either an Ancient or a Traveller. Oh and his name means ‘Great Inventor’.”

  Kristian listened to Saresh’s excited voice as he continued to describe the page aloud. Listening as intently as he could, the young Phoenix’s eyes fell upon a very familiar image that filled him with glee and fear.

  “What is that?” Kristian said pointing to a black and white image of an urn.

  “Oh that,” Saresh said, “that is one of his inventions. The Urns of Solasis Krull.”

  Kristian’s fingers traced the picture; he had seen the real thing before. The physical urn he had retrieved looked different, but he knew it was the same thing. Everything that had happened to him since he had returned to the Order was connected to this urn; Oliver’s death, the vision of Oliver and the memory of Zelupzs, they all led him to this moment.

  “What is it for?” Kristian enquired.