by Jaz Johnson
Finally, after a few more yards, she saw the opening of the forest, which let out into the road. She smiled, curling her hands into fists as she once again added a little more oomph to her speed, hope powering her on. She looked to her side as she ran, fumbling to take out her cell phone again and try dialing Fran. With her jerky movements, it proved to be somewhat difficult as she approached the side of the road.
She finally was able to pull it out as she ran onto the dark pavement of the road. She gripped it tight in victory. But that feeling was short lived. It was almost immediately replaced by shock. Two bright headlights and an ear-ringing horn were the last things she saw and heard before everything went black.
********
In the throne room of the castle of Kiran, Vida paced back and forth in the corner of the room which served as her personal library. The room was dimly lit, due to the time of day. Their sun had begun to set some hours ago, and the lighting was turning into a warm auburn. The white pillar walls of the throne room were painted with the deep auburn, and the warmth of the sage curtains seemed to be enhanced with the warm colour. She was in deep thought, Vida. She was thinking about the past, once again, and what she could have changed. She regretted so much, and she was still wondering how to right her wrongs. Had she made the right decision? What decision did she have to make to justify it?
“M’lady! M’lady! Tebias has made contact! He’s made contact!” a little thing by the name of Artemis shouted, running into the throne room. Her large round glasses bouncing up and down on her full cheeks. Her bedroom maroon eyes, enhanced by her glasses, were wide and fearful. The queen, who was standing in front of her personal bookshelf, turned almost immediately at hearing that name. Her expression followed Artemis’.
“What?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’ve seen it. She was in a forest. She fell, and when she rose, he was waiting for her.”
“Fell? Fell from what? Where is she now? Where is Tebias?” the queen asked, walking to meet Artemis half way into the room. The height difference between the two was amazing. Vida, who stood at five feet and eleven inches, towered over Artemis and her mere four feet and ten inches. The bottom of Vida’s white gown trailed behind her as she hurried to Artemis, the silky fabric flowing around her feet as she slowed to a stop. Artemis panted as she tried to force words from her straining lungs.
“She’s … She’s been hit by one of Earth’s land vehicles. Tebias is unconscious. She was able to defend herself, but just barely, M’lady,” she explained through panting.
Vida’s hand rose to her chest in what looked like relief. She looked from side to side, giving herself a moment to think. To think about Tebias, and the danger he proposed to her daughter.
“I thought he died with that spell … Even performed by her, it was very powerful,” she said, meaning to be said to herself.
“No, M’lady. He’s survived, and is continuing to hunt her. He was not killed in this battle either.” Artemis said as she did. Fast paced and articulate.
Her breathing had returned to normal, and so had her speech. She was a fast talker. A side effect of her abilities. She had the gifts of a photographic memory, extending knowledge with foresight, and as a perk, the ability to manipulate gravity. Not quite levitation, as Saphora had just grazed the surface of, but merely adding or taking away gravity from anything, though not anyone. Being the queen’s advisor, she usually used the perk to tend to the library. Walking up walls and bookshelves to organize books, scrolls, or what have you, in zero gravity.
“Yes … It seems I’ve underestimated him, as I feared. Where is Saphora now? Is she alright?” Artemis nodded.
“Yes. Her body, it’s in a state of healing. She’s unconscious, but I cannot see where she is. Forgive me.”
“It’s alright, Artemis. Thank you. I will try to speak to her again. How did she fall?” Vida asked, turning around and walking back to her personal library.
It was a small collection. But it held everything she had ever needed to know. Artemis, being her advisor, had read every book the queen held dear, as well as everything else in the entire Kingdom. There was not one book, one scroll, one diagram, nor one map that had gone unread by Artemis, or forgotten.
“I believe she was flying, M’lady. She heard what sounded like …”
Artemis trailed off, not wanting to give false hope to what she thought she had heard. Vida turned her head around, her pale gray eyes curious.
“Like?”
Artemis folded her hands. “Well, M’lady. It sounded like Arol,” the queen’s body turned almost immediately.
“Arol?”
“B-But he hasn’t been heard since they landed, M’lady. I can’t be sure.”
“What else could it have been?” the queen asked in denial. For if Arol was alive, even injured, Saphora’s chances of survival would be increased nearly tenfold.
“It … Could have been one of their airborne vehicles. Their noises and volumes are similar from a distance.”
Vida sighed, nodding at the logic presented to her. Though she still held onto the hope that Arol was somehow alive, and trying to find Saphora.
“Right …” she sighed, turning back around to face her library. Artemis followed closely behind. There was something else the queen needed to know. Something that would lift her spirit, and reassure her hope for her daughter.
“There is something else, M’lady.” Artemis said, coming up beside Vida as she plucked a book from a shelf eyelevel to her. It was a book on the craft of telepathy. “The marks … They’re spreading.”
Vida’s eyes widened slightly, and she turned her head towards her friend Artemis. The marks were spreading. They both knew what that meant. Realizing it together, they smiled, as Vida placed her hand on Artemis’ shoulder. Yes, there was hope.
A soft buzzing sound could be heard in the depths of Saphora’s unconscious mind. She had not yet come to, and was swimming in her memories behind closed eyelids. A flash of light. Tebias’ death-carrying threats. The trunk of the tree flying across the distance between them. The gun in the air. Everything seeming to happen in slow motion. Her heart raced, and her breathing was ragged as she envisioned running through the dense forest. Tree after tree. Each appearing to be trying to keep her from getting away. The buzzing continued, confusing her subconscious and bringing forth the memory of that night. Her mind matching the sound with the broken pipes in the kitchen of the destroyed house. There she was, standing by the marble counter top, confused and distraught. And there was Tebias, standing in the doorway, pointing the gun he was holding in the forest and aiming it in the same manner.
“Saphora …” she heard a voice say to her. That voice. From that night.
She looked around the kitchen, anxious to see the face of the woman that was speaking to her. She thought maybe she just didn’t turn around to see the woman who had spoken. And that that was why she didn’t remember seeing her. But when she looked around, she didn’t see the woman, and her heart fell. But that didn’t stop her from continuing to hear her.
“Wake up, Saphora,” the voice rang.
Saphora’s head spun around, desperate to see her. But all she ended up doing, was looking into the gun of Tebias. His black eyes, enraged, stared into her ruby ones. She stared as time slowed down again, allowing her to watch Tebias’ index finger bend to pull back the trigger of the gun.
“Saphora!”
Saphora’s eyes shot open, glowing white and baring wide. Her body was in a state of trance, floating above the futon she had been placed on. The markings on her back were glowing with the same consistency as her eyes. Slowly coming into focus, her pupils returned to the large masses of her eyes. And the moment they did, her body fell onto the futon, the glowing fading. Startled from the sudden drop of gravity, Saphora’s limbs sprawled out along the bed, like she was being carried, and then was suddenly dropped. She blinked furiously, looking around the unfamiliar room. And once again, she found herself looking into the mou
th of a gun – now with two barrels.
She continued blinking, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room. She was in a rundown house. The walls were a dingy tan, with what looked like rust crawling up the bottom of the paneling. At the bottom of the walls, lining the floor, were vents from the heater – giving off a soft buzzing sound. The carpet was a grimy green, with stains of different colours scattered throughout. It connected with a white tile, which had been glazed over with a thin layer of dirt, in the attached kitchen. Saphora stared into the double barreled shot gun, held by the shaking hands of an old man. Realizing that she was being held at gun point, Saphora scurried to back up on the futon, backing up against the wall behind her. She looked up into the fearing, but watchful blue eyes of the man, who held the gun in a firm grip. Sweat was beginning to roll down the side of his face, from under the dark blue denim cap he wore. The cap’s brim almost hindered her from seeing his eyes. His thin lips were curled into a tight line, leaving them unseen, under the scratchy gray stubble that covered the majority of his face. One blue eye closed tight, as he spoke.
“What in the hell are ye’?” he asked with a low, gruff voice.
Saphora’s heart stopped.
“And do you know…what you are?” Tebias’ voice rang in her head. What happened? She couldn’t remember. Her heart picked up its pace again. She couldn’t remember. No, no, she thought. She closed her eyes tightly, leaning her head down as she tried to remember what had happened before the darkness. But she was coming up a blank. All that she could remember was Tebias’ voice – asking her what she was.
The sound of the man cocking the gun forced Saphora to focus. She met the man’s impatient eyes once again.
“I said,” he started, as he raised the gun a bit higher to aim at Saphora’s head. “What are ye’? His hands were shaky. But she knew that if he were to shoot, it would not miss. Saphora struggled for words that would satisfy the answer he was looking for. But she didn’t understand the question to begin with, let alone how to answer it.
“What do you mean?”
The man shot up from his arm chair, making Saphora flinch and aimless try to back further into the wall.
“Don’ you play stupid with me, ye’ alien. I ain’t stupid. You came runnin’ out them woods, and I hit ye’ with my car. Bein’ the gentleman I am I brought you home. I put ye’ on that there futon and you start glowing and floatin’ n’ stuff. The heck are you?!”
Saphora’s heart pounded against her ribcage. Floating? Had he seen her flying into the forest? Was he on his way to see her when he hit her? She’d been found out. And it was resulting in one of the ways she had feared – violence. She raised her arms towards the man, facing her palms out towards him in surrender. He shifted from his left foot to his right as his finger squeezed and released the trigger.
“Please. I’m … I’m …” She had thought about this plan a million times. And each time, she was disturbed by how incredibly stupid it was. But she had never come up with anything else that sounded like it would work for her. So it was all she had to go by. She could only hope, with observation of the man’s lack of articulation, that he was dull enough to believe her story. “A magician.”
The man lowered his gun, and his squinted eye opened as he stared at her with a look that was a mix of disbelief and confusion. His brows pulled together as Saphora’s rose with a glimpse of hope. She couldn’t believe it. Could this really work?
“I … Sometimes, I do my tricks in my sleep,” she said, averting her eyes. His gun lowered a little more, along with his bottom lip.
“A magician,” he repeated. Saphora quickly nodded, peeking through her raised hands. “Well hell. I just said I ain’t-“
With a sudden rumbling around the house. The wall behind the man was smashed in, knocking the heavy debris into the man and knocking him to the floor, crushing him with the weight of the rubble. Saphora screamed, pressing herself against the wall and digging the heels of her feet into the futon. Her nails scratched against the peeling paneling of the wall, cutting through it with ease. She turned her head away from the abrupt and sudden death of the man under the wall, coughing from the amount of dust and debris that was floating around the room. With squinted eyes, she turned to look in the destruction’s direction. She was horrified at what she saw. At who she saw.
“Throwing things. Now that’s not very nice,” Tebias said, kicking in a section of the remaining wall and walking in on top of the rubble, and thereby on top of the crushed man. “Running away? That’s not much better,” he said with somewhat of a chuckle. But there was an underlining tone of anger. Of rage. Of a pride that was being tested. This made the second time that Saphora – a child in the eyes of Tebias, had been able to not only defeat him, but escape him without so much as an idea of what she was. That was picking at Tebias’ pride. He didn’t respond to that very well. He was a man of pride. And being evaded by this child – a girl no less, was beginning to blur the level of sensibility in his methods. He stepped forward onto the rubble, his thick combat boot crunching down on the material. And suddenly Saphora saw the image of the kitchen in the house. She saw the tattered doorframe around a shadowed Tebias. But something else happened, as well. He looked familiar. Not because she had remembered him from that night, and once again in the forest. But as if she had known him before all that. Before the life she had now.
“You’re crafty. I’ll give you that. Regardless if you’re aware of it or not,” he laughed, coming closer. Saphora knew she had to get up. But her body was rejecting her brain’s instructions. Maybe because it was giving out too many for her to follow. But there was one voice, above all the screaming ones in her head that broke through. Firm, calm, and also, suddenly familiar.
“Saphora.”
Saphora’s head snapped to the right, to where she thought the voice was coming from. But she was not there. Only an empty, dirty kitchen area. It was the same woman that had spoken to her on that night. Only, right now she sounded strange – weaker, almost. She didn’t know if it was because it was being over powered by all the other things her brain was screaming at her, but it was only making her strain to listen to the soft voice of the woman. Tebias looked in the direction as well, as if expecting to see something or someone.
“Repeat after me, Saphora.”
Saphora whined, shaking her head and closing her eyes. It was happening. First, she was asked to repeat the night, and now it was happening again. She was being sent back into her subconscious right before her very eyes. She just wanted it to go away. She wanted Fran. She wanted safety.
“Stand up,” Tebias said, looking back at Saphora. The desire to end her life was becoming greater. But he knew that he would be received better if she was brought back alive.
“Saphora, listen.”
Saphora jerked her head to the left, and still, the woman was not there. The back of her head hit the wall in distraught. She was hearing things. So not only was her reality being tested, but also her sanity. She didn’t understand it. How could she possibly? So she did the next best thing in such a situation – went along with the person who seemed to be on her side. She gave a small gesture of nodding her head.
“Stand up, as he’s asked,” she instructed. And she did, however reluctantly it was. Tebias grinned, nodding with acknowledgement. The other gun in his hand lowered in approval. The gun he held was not actually to harm Saphora. It was built to stun, and render the mind unconscious. But in Saphora’s eyes, it was death with a trigger.
“Good. Now come here, like a good girl.”
But Saphora stood still, waiting for instructions not from him, but from her.
“Now say as I say – quietly,” the woman said, before beginning a chant in a language Saphora did not understand. Her brows pulled together in confusion as she strained to listen to the strange words. Her lips began to part, and partially follow the words said. She kept her eyes averted as instructed, so not to give away the fact that she was speaking tow
ards him, and rather just to herself. Tebias tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he watched her, observing her posture. He was trying to tell if she was making motions to walk towards him or not. Her head was tilted down as she repeated the words spoken to her as best she could.
And then, with a sudden rush of energy pushing through her, her head snapped up. Tebias’ eyes went wide as he met Saphora’s now glowing white ones. He hissed, gritting his teeth and raising his gun again in that instant. Swarms of wind whipped off of Saphora’s body, sending her wavy hair in a frenzy, along with the curtains. Tebias raised his arm to curve around his face and protect against the now flying debris. The paneling of the walls peeled upwards as Tebias swore under his breath.
Tebias shouted in frustration, while being forced to take steps back as the ambush of wind continued. He tried to lift his arm to aim his gun at Saphora, but the increasingly strengthening wind caught his arm, pushing it, and the rest of him a few more steps back. This time Saphora saw what was happening. There was enough time in the action for Saphora to take a glimpse around. Although her body felt heavy and connected to the ground, she was able to look around with what movement she did have of her eyes.
Everything was being blown around the room. Slowly, the house was beginning to tear apart. The walls could be heard creaking as they began to weaken in their own frames. And then it happened again. Time slowed down. She could see the curtains whipping around the window frames, the tiles beginning to rip off the floor, the rubble swimming around in the air. The furniture was beginning to lift as well, the lamps losing their shades, the chairs lifting along with the dining table. Saphora’s heart thumped against her suddenly tight chest as she was suddenly very aware of what she was doing. And even more aware that she didn’t know how to stop. With each quickening pump of her heart, the time that passed seemed to get slower.
