Age of Mystics (Saga of Mystics Book 1)

by Chris Walters

  Cal turned to tell the group and saw his fatal mistake. There was a widening crack in the pavement upon which he was standing. He was the only one to notice it. He looked around for something to grab.

  “No one come over here,” he said as he felt the weight under him start to shift. “Kyle, take the rope out of your backpack.” He watched as Kyle did it and saw the look of horror on everyone’s faces as they watched the crack grow wider and wider. Kyle had the rope out and tossed it to his Dad. As Cal reached for it, he felt the ground beneath him slip. He hit his head hard against the asphalt as the road crumbled underneath him. He was never close enough to the rope to get it, but he reached wildly out for any handhold as he fell.

  A piece of the road that had crumbled previously had a bar sticking out of it and Cal was able to grab ahold of it. The water rushed so furiously by that it was loud, but he could hear the yells of his family above him as he pulled himself toward dry land. He looked up and saw the rope being lowered at the same moment he felt the soft earth give way under his anchor. He fought against it, but the mud was too wet and slippery and he slowly sank into the river and its incredible current. He held on for dear life, but the current began to tug at him as more of his body sunk into it. His arms burned with the strain of holding on and in this short time, he almost couldn’t feel his fingers any more.

  He couldn’t hold on and fell into the river, which quickly carried him downstream. He tried to call out, but swallowed a huge amount of water. He was just able to see the pipes that led to the underground portion of this. Maybe he could grab the side. It would probably rip his hand apart, but maybe he could hold on long enough for the family to get there. He reached out, but missed it and the effort brought him right into the path of a branch that hit him hard on the head. As he faded out, he wondered how everyone else would survive. He said a silent prayer to a god or gods he had long since forgotten as his vision faded to black, and Calvin Ward faded from this life.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Cliff Ko was an intelligent boy, a bit of a geek really. He liked all things mystical and magical, and had generally been ostracized by others his age for being weird. Most people today think kids embrace nerdiness, but it has never been quite so simple. Kids find a way to categorize those that are not like everyone else, they always have. Maybe they always will. He had lived all twelve years of his life in Colorado Springs with his father and his brother, his mother having died when he was very young. The change from one existence to the next was taken as a real positive by Cliff. He had been at the Target pharmacy with his Dad when the power had gone out, and shortly after that they had walked home. It wasn’t too far, and Cliff got to spend time with his Dad. Cliff had gone to his room to begin planning the next RPG game he would try to get introduced into the Middle School’s gaming club.

  When it got dark that first night, and the rain started pouring down, he wasn’t able to see much and became a little frustrated. In his mind, Cliff had been making patterns he could use in the maps for the game and one in particular that was basically concentric circles, when he wished he had light in the room to read. He just wished it, and it happened. It was low, and had come out of his hands, and went out as soon as he started reading. He played with that light all night, not telling his father about it. He really wished he had. He wished that he could have helped his father, but those wishes never came true.

  On the second day, Cliff’s father had grown steadily more ill. He said his heart medication wasn’t working. Late in the afternoon, he didn’t wake up from his nap. Cliff had tried to push the light into his father, trying to give him energy, but apparently the magic didn’t work that way. On the third day, he wrapped his Dad in a sheet and left him in the living room. The smell was horrific now, and Cliff mostly stayed in his room upstairs. He had rung doorbells nearby, but no one seemed to be home anymore. Now, with six or seven days having passed since the world changed, with no sight of his brother in all that time, and with his food reserves down to a few fruit rolls and some granola bars, Cliff wanted to get out and see if he could find people. There were two problems with this.

  One problem was that there were people Cliff had seen in the last couple of days, since the rain stopped. There was a group of five or six boys, high-schoolers, who were roaming the streets, breaking into houses and taking food and pretty much whatever they wanted. They hadn’t come to Cliff’s house yet, but he knew they would get here eventually, based on their pace, probably today.

  The other problem was that Cliff was afraid of the other way out of the house, the back way. There was a creek back there, that now was a river, but that wasn’t the problem. Since he was a little boy, he had always heard the rumors of the Hermit. A local bogeyman of rumor, the Hermit was one of the scariest ideas Cliff could imagine. He didn’t even like exiting his house in that direction. His older brother, Kin, always got mad at him for this fear, but Cliff knew the Hermit was real. The story went that a homeless man lived in a cave down by the creek. He was crazy and abducted and killed small children. Cliff had thought he had seen him once in another part of town. He was a tall man with mud smeared all over his clothes, and he had looked at Cliff straight in the eyes when he, his father, and Kin had been at the park downtown some months ago. The dull stare in his eyes were enough to frighten Cliff forever. Cliff stared out his bedroom window, looking for any sign of the Hermit. He thought he saw movement in the trees near the creek, just off their property. It was growing dark, and he couldn’t be sure.

  The sound of breaking glass brought Cliff to his senses. He heard voices downstairs.

  “Oh, shit, man. Is that a corpse?”

  “Go check.” Said a second voice.

  “I ain’t checking, you check.” The first voice replied.

  “You guys are such pussies!” chimed in a third voice, “Yeah it is a body, and someone wrapped him up.” Cliff was about to sneak out to see who it was, but stopped short when he heard, “let’s check the house. Load anything worthwhile on to the patio and we will take it with us, Jay, go downstairs and check the basement.”

  “It’s always flooded in the basement,” the man named Jay whined aloud.

  “Just do it,” said the voice of the man who was obviously the leader, “I will check upstairs.”

  Cliff had heard enough, he loaded his DM guide, his player’s handbook and his book of game magic all into his backpack with the little food items he had left and crawled out his window onto the small roof area. There was a lattice he his brother had used to sneak into the house when he had been in school, and had stayed out later than his father had wanted. Cliff crept over to it, just as he heard the door to his bedroom open. Cliff was just beginning to ease himself down the lattice work, when the man shouted out the window.

  “Hey, there he is. It is some kid.” Cliff looked up to see the teen (which is what he really was) climb out onto the roof. He heard the lumbering feet of another running across his hardwood floors and Cliff made a leap for the ground and took off running toward the woods and the creek. The young men were on his track in less than a minute and Cliff ran through the trees, only slowed by the overwhelming fear of the direction he was headed. He saw the swollen creek and knew he didn’t have far to run, so he tried to hide behind a tree. He heard the men moving through the small brush.

  “We know you are here kid.” Said the first voice, “just come out so we can talk about the body. You kill that guy?”

  Did he kill his own father? The question really upset him, he stood and walked around the tree, to where three young men stood. A fourth was just running into the wooded area at that moment.

  “No, I did not kill my father,” Cliff began indignantly, “he died of heart problems a couple of days ago. Now, you leave our property.”

  “Or what?” came the leader’s response.

  “Or the Hermit will get you.” Cliff replied, his fear growing greater every second.

  “Kid, that story is older than me. Now get over here, and we w
ill decide if you live or die.” The man started walking forward, and Cliff was certain he was at least about to get hurt. But, the leader stopped up short, his eyes wide. He was staring, not at Cliff, but behind him. Cliff turned to look behind him, but was shoved roughly aside by a man walking by. His head hit the tree he was standing next to and he fell down, dazed. When he could regain his thoughts, he looked up to see the man who had walked by. It was the Hermit, with the mud-covered clothes and skin, exactly as Cliff imagined. He shrank back against the tree, because around the Hermit lay the four bodies of the young men who had wanted to kill or hurt Cliff.

  The Hermit paid no mind to Cliff, he rifled over the men’s bodies, looking for something. Cliff saw him rip a diamond stud earring from one of the boys’ ears. The Hermit’s back was to Cliff the whole time. The man stood, looked down at the bodies for a moment and started walking off parallel to the creek.

  Cliff called out, “Sir?” to no response.

  The man kept walking and cliff followed him and called out again, “Are you the Hermit?”

  At this the man turned. Cliff fully expected to see those dead, scary eyes, but what he saw was something quite different. The Hermit’s eyes sparkled with power, like there was something shiny inside his head. He said nothing, but Cliff was suddenly overwhelmed with fear and he shrunk down as the man turned to leave. As fearful as he was, the man had saved him. So, cowering on the ground, he yelled out one more thing, “Thank you for saving me.”

  The Hermit turned once again, considered Cliff for a moment, and then turned back and continued his fast paced walk away. The fear immediately left Cliff, like someone had drawn a curtain back. It was an odd sensation. Cliff threw his backpack over a shoulder and followed after the man at a distance, never getting close enough to incur his wrath, but every once in a while, Cliff would see him turn and look and shake his head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  She had not spoken to her husband in many days now; it was hard to remember how many had passed in this damp, overheated concrete box. Emma had spent every lunch hour here, in this enclosed garden speaking to her dead husband. He had been cremated when he had passed, and according to his wishes, Emma had spread his ashes in Hawaii. So, she had taken to sitting in the garden and having a one-way conversation with him. However, the thought of sharing this little section of her crazy was abhorrent to her. She had not wanted to do that when Jordan was there, and there was no privacy to do it without him here. She was pretty sure it had been about a week they were trapped there. She also felt guilty, because she was attracted to Jordan. It wasn’t only because of her continuing love for her dead husband, but also because of the age gap between herself and the young soldier, that caused she felt such shame.

  On top of that, she had realized a few days ago that she was actually having an effect on the plants themselves. First it had been the way Donna’s burial mound had covered with flowers in less than a day. Then, she had been able to make the plants bear fruit quicker than was physically possible. She didn’t really question this ability, because it had provided food for them. But, now, missing the guidance her husband would have provided, she wondered what good this gift would do if they remained stuck in the garden forever.

  Jordan was in the same place he was every day. He knelt near the air opening, picking away at the hole in the wall in tiny chips. In six or seven days, she wasn’t sure, he had picked out about eight inches long, by three inches deep, and three inches wide. At this rate, it would take months to get out of here.

  She whispered softly to herself, “Mark, what would you do? What would you tell me to do?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jordan called out, “did you say something?”

  Emma turned toward him, they would be alone for a long time, she needed to let him know what was going on with her. “Not really. I need to tell you something.”

  Jordan stopped picking, turned and walked over to her, sitting next to her. “Sure, what is it? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. You are very sweet,” Emma started, “Umm I just want you to know that I sometimes talk to my husband, who passed a while back. It keeps me stable, I guess. I know it sounds crazy, but somehow it keeps me sane.” Jordan just nodded and smiled a sad smile, and no apparent judgment, so she continued. “But, that isn’t what I wanted to tell you. Well, let me show you.”

  She reached down to where a young strawberry plant was just flowering, and took a leave in her hand. Concentrating, as she had practiced all the day before and most of today, she thought through the deep process of growth and reproduction of this particular plant. As she conjured it in her mind, she followed the pattern of growth with her eyes, as the plant’s flowers spouted fruit. The fruit grew and colored a deep red as the berries became about half the size of her palm. Fearing him freaking out, Emma looked up at Jordan and saw something quite different.

  He had a look of amazement and joy on his face as he took the strawberry off the plant and bit into it. A look of almost ecstasy crossed his face.

  “Wow, Emma! That is delicious. That is so cool. How did you do it?” He asked in a staccato of statement and question that mirrored the look of excitement on his face.

  She sort of giggled with a little glee at his response, “I don’t know. The last few days, I have just been able to do it.”

  “Oh my God, Emma,” Jordan exclaimed, “Could you do that with a vine?”

  She shrugged, “I think so.”

  “Don’t you think the vine will work much better on the concrete?” Jordan asked, waiting for her to pick up his meaning.

  Shocked, Emma snapped off an ivy vine, grabbed some potting soil and walked over to the area in which Jordan had been working. She quickly planted the vine and took it through the planting, rooting and growth pattern to get it up to the opening. She then guided the vine through the process of attaching to the concrete and pulling at it until pieces of cement started to break off. They were small, not much different than the size that Jordan was breaking off. But, Emma could feel micro-crevasses in the concrete and sent tentacles of vine into each one. Within about thirty minutes, she had broken off an amount equal to the amount Jordan had taken out in days. As she broke off her concentration, she realized how much it was taking out of her. She sort of collapsed into Jordan’s arms as he rushed to catch her.

  “Emma!” he exclaimed, “You did it! We will be able to get out of here now.” Without notice, he bent his head down and kissed her deep on the lips. Emma gave in and gave up all of the shame she was carrying for being attracted to him. She momentarily forgot about her grief, her fright and her exhaustion. She wanted this young man, and she gave in to the feeling. The wall could wait.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The anticipation was thick as Eric walked back into the camp hurriedly and whistled loud. It was growing dark and he needed to act quickly. “Everyone into the street,” he called out. People began to come out of the buildings all around. Being roughly the time of patrol change over, all of the soldiers and Tigers were soon in front of him as well. He paced and planned as everyone gathered. Once everyone was there and quiet, he spoke to them, using the command voice he had honed over thirty years in the Army.

  “Team,” he began, “We have a real crisis in front of us. The south of town is burning, as anyone can see, and it is getting close. What our scouts have discovered is that it is intentional. We met up with some soldiers from Fort Carson and learned the cause of the fire. The commander of the base, General Stone, has ordered the city burned to protect against looting and to get everyone to come to Fort Carson under his control. He has, to put it nicely, gone off his rocker. The problem is that it means we can’t keep our camp here. It means we have to save lives. We have to stop what the soldiers are doing; they are destroying resources right now. We also need to find a safer location. My plan is to go south to the base and demand that General Stone stop. I fully expect a confrontation.”

  Eric softened his voice to show care and continued, “I want everyo
ne to know their options. I will need all of our soldiers with me. It is important to me for you all to be safe. So, you can come with us and carry goods for us, you can stay and see if you can survive, or you can run away. It is important to note that the last two options give you no protection, and if you choose them, you will no longer be considered part of our group.”

  Eric looked around, trying hard to ensure he made eye contact with everyone he could see. They had twenty-nine soldiers, including the three Ft. Carson soldiers that had turned and joined their side. The other thirty-seven people were “villagers”. He knew he would destroy anyone who chose to leave his group, he would have to in order to retain order, but he wanted to give the perception of choice.

  “It is your call,” he said, “make it.”

  Eric turned and walked toward the dojo, he called out to his men. “Gather all weapons, as well as what supplies we can carry. Put everything out here in the street, we leave before dark. I want to be at the gates of the base by dawn.”

  Readying himself for conflict, he walked into the dim dojo to make sure he grabbed his Bo staff and nunchaku. However, he knew his power lay in his physical and mystical gifts first and weapons second. He had not told his “town” of the battle in the streets just south of camp. He had kept from them the fact that he and his men had destroyed a group of over one hundred soldiers in quick order, and that some of the soldiers had got away and were running as fast as their feet could carry them to the base to report on this. Both Meyer and Damiano had followed him in. He was growing tired of their bickering and sycophantic climbing.

  “Gentlemen, we will use every bit of chi energy in this battle, this is our chance. We take down everyone. Many of these foes are battle hardened, but many will join us, once they see our strength. Anyone who attacks us will be killed. All prisoners who engage with us will be brought before me, only I will make the call as to whether they live or die. Clear?”