The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5)

by April Aasheim

  “Remember that when you see what I’ve done.”

  I didn’t have time to process his words. We all jumped together.

  14

  Death

  It is said that at the moment of your death, your life flashes before you.

  As I spiraled towards the ground, I saw the memories of my life so far - my childhood, fighting and playing with my sisters; my teenage years rebelling against Sasha; my time with Michael in his commune, how I had both loved and hated him on a whim; my return to Dark Root and the reunion with my family; the dread of discovering I was pregnant; waking from the curse of Mother’s spell book; giving birth to Montana; learning that Jillian was my mother; falling in love with Shane; and finally, losing my son.

  The scenes played out instantaneously, as gravity exerted its will over me. I wished for one more chance to wander Aunt Dora’s garden, have tea with Jillian, argue with my sisters, or kiss Shane. But I was nonetheless grateful for the memories I had collected, even though some were tinged with regret. I had stayed with Michael too long, out of convenience or rebellion but not love. I hadn’t cherished my sisters as I should have when we were young, thinking there was plenty of time to make it up to them later. I had let petty emotions like jealousy and anger rule me far too often. All those arguments… all that bickering. Why? Time in Real Life was a luxury, and I had squandered too much.

  As I pondered this all, I realized I wasn’t going to die.

  We drifted towards the hilltop, as if wearing sails. Merry was the first to land, grinning up at us in exhilaration. We dropped down beside her, hitting earth that might as well have been made of cotton.

  “Yahoo!” Merry whooped, dancing about, giving everyone high-fives. There was a light in her eyes that I hadn’t seen in a long time. “That was my spell!” she said. “It just came to me and I didn’t even need a wand!”

  “Merry! I love you!” I hugged her tight. I knew now that I had mistaken my sister’s gentleness for weakness. “You’re a badass,” I said.

  She beamed. “Thank you, Maggie. That means a lot.”

  “There’s the portal,” Shane said, wasting no time.

  The gargoyles were long gone and we had cleared Gahabrien’s storm, but only for the moment. It raged on the horizon, working its way towards us.

  I frisked myself, making sure I still had my acorn, wand, hourglass and apple. “Let’s hurry.”

  “I suggest you make your confessions now, if you haven’t already done so,” Michael said, clutching his cross as we approached the glimmering doorway.

  Merry’s lip trembled. “I wish I could.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Michael said to her, then looked at Shane. “How about you, cowboy? Got any secrets from the range you want to share? I’m qualified to absolve your sins.”

  “My only secret is that I want to punch that smugness from your face,” Shane answered.

  “That’s hardly a secret,” Michael replied.

  Merry linked arms with Shane and Michael, nodding to herself as she took a deep breath. “I got this,” she said.

  With that, the three stepped in front of the portal, like Dorothy flanked by the Tin Man and Scarecrow, wondering what they would discover behind the curtain.

  15

  Temperance

  “C’mon soldier, it’s 0500 hours.”

  Shane rubbed his eyes and focused on the lean man in glasses and a starched tan T-shirt hovering over him. He had seen him land by chopper the night before, but hadn’t formally met him. The captain was older than Shane by about a decade, and his face wore an expression of no-nonsense, absolute authority.

  Still in his sleeping bag, Shane scratched his head and propped himself up on to his elbows, looking around for his thermos. The captain handed him one, filled with hot coffee. “Drink up fast. Dawn’s coming.”

  Shane dressed quickly and stepped out of his tent. The sun had not yet risen. The indigo-blue sky, speckled by the few stars brave enough to stick around and see this world for what it was without the cover of night - an inhospitable shit hole that even the locals called ‘hell.’

  He rubbed his temples and finished the coffee, only vaguely aware of its earthy flavor, which wasn’t unusual in this part of the world. Everything had a slightly different taste here - and most of it tasted like dust.

  “Where is everyone?” Shane asked himself, looking around for Irene and the rest of his mates. She’d been skittish the last few nights, swearing that people were listening in on their conversations. He had joked in response, “Why wouldn’t they just hire one of us to listen in? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

  The captain returned and Shane was able to read the name tape over his right breast - Captain Dewayne Markson. He paced and spoke while Shane laced his boots. “The others have already been given their orders for today. You’ll meet up with them at sunset, if we do this right.”

  Shane raised an eyebrow as he tucked his T-shirt into his camo pants. He was a light sleeper and was surprised he hadn’t heard them leave. “Do what right, if you don’t me asking? And why are we the only two left?”

  “Your questions will be answered shortly,” Markson said, handing Shane his camelback and steering them towards the lone jeep parked beside the campsite.

  Shane watched for landmarks as Markson drove them down a dusty road. When the captain wasn’t looking, Shane peeked at his flip phone, hoping Irene had texted. But the screen was as dead as the desert. Odd, he thought, remembering that he’d charged it off the generator the night before.

  Markson turned down a side road, kicking up even more dust as he hit the gas. There was no sign of civilization. Shane tried to tune into Irene, but couldn’t find her. She must have ‘unplugged’ for her own work.

  Almost an hour later, Markson pulled up to an abandoned store. The sign had been torn down, but there were barrels and shelves and other remnants suggesting the place had been used recently. Shane followed the captain into the building and through a door behind the counter. They entered a cool dark room lit only by two lanterns. It suddenly occurred to Shane that it probably wasn’t a good idea to be out here alone with this stranger, no matter how many railroad tracks he wore. But what could he do now? He was weaponless.

  Markson pointed to a desk formed of wooden crates. A laptop was placed on the rough surface. The captain leaned over and started tapping keys, while Shane watched his fingers out of the corner of his eye. He was pretty sure he caught the password, and quickly committed it to memory.

  Markson turned the screen towards him, revealing a photograph of a teenager, no older than fifteen. The boy had dark hair and skin, like most of the people of this region, but his eyes were bright and hopeful – a rarity here. He was almost smiling.

  “Who is that?” Shane asked, continuing to study the boy’s features as he tried tuning into him.

  “Asha. He’s the reason I brought you here.”

  “You want me to track him, huh?” The boy had a mop of black hair and flecks of green in his eyes, and he wore a blue Dodgers T-shirt. “Is he nearby?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping you’ll tell me,” the captain said, scrolling through a series of photos. “He’s the son of a rebel leader, and they’ve been spotted together in numerous places, including New York City. Your teammates have been taken to those other areas, hoping to get a lock on him.”

  “So someone gets an all-expense paid trip to New York and I’m stuck here,” Shane said, shaking his head.

  “You’re the best. And this is the most likely spot.”

  “Ah, you flatter me,” Shane said, taking the mouse and examining the photos. It appeared the teenager had traveled extensively during his young life. The more Shane attuned, the more he felt the boy’s wanderlust.

  “So who is his father?” Shane asked as the captain took a seat on the corner of the makeshift desk. “And why do we need him? Kid doesn’t seem like a bad sort, if you judge by photographs.”

  “It’s not the kid we’re
after. But his father is a very bad man, and seems to have some talents of his own. Our remote viewers aren’t able to get a fix on him. But they’ve caught a few glimpses of his son, who doesn’t protect himself nearly as well.”

  “The innocent never do,” Shane said, his eyes resting on the last picture. The boy was no older than twelve in the photo, and he was holding hands with a lovely young woman that Shane guessed to be his mother.

  “She’s dead now,” Markson said. “Intel says the father killed her.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with this world?” Shane asked, looking into the kid’s eyes. He had lost his own mother at a young age and felt a growing connection to Asha. “So you think if we find him, we find Daddy?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you’re not looking for this man just because he killed his wife, are you?”

  “No. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

  “What happens to Asha then?”

  The captain spread a palm across the desk. “He has other family. The father is the only one we want.”

  “I was raised by extended family, too,” Shane said. “It wasn’t an ideal situation, but I was loved. The kid won’t get hurt, right?”

  “As I said, we’re only after his dad. Think you can do it?”

  Shane paused before answering. He knew he could do it. He had already established a link just by looking at the last photo alone. In fact, for the first time since being recruited, he felt good about his job. Justice had to be done.

  “What’s your technique?” Markson asked. “Sleep? Trance? Meditation?”

  Shane drew his lips into his mouth, wondering how much to reveal. “Mind if I take a look at the orders first?” Shane asked, knowing his request might elicit an angry response. Markson reached into his pocket and produced the appropriate documents. All seemed in order and Shane relaxed.

  “I have several methods. I can locate him through his dreams, but because of the language barrier and the fact we’ve never met in person, that probably won’t be much help.”

  “And your other techniques?”

  Shane gave him a cock-eyed smile. “I just ask.”

  Shane viewed the boy’s photographs again, concentrating on the eyes. They showed so much. They were the same eyes as boys the world over - full of longing, optimism, and hope for adventure. But the longer Shane stared, the more he saw sadness. There was loss there, and not just of his mother. But then again, so many people endured sadness in this region of the world.

  Shane’s eyelids drooped under the weight of his stare. His mind and body relaxed, and he locked onto the boy’s location. He was close by - no more than fifty miles away, maybe less.

  “Get anything?”

  “He’s not far,” Shane said, squinting to get a better look. “He’s in a very large house, outside of a town. There’s maybe twenty others with him, mostly men.”

  Shane felt the captain lean in over his shoulder. “Do you see a man with a wide scar across his left cheek? That would be his father.”

  Shane adjusted his inner lens, scanning the house.

  Asha was playing a video game on a flat screen TV that looked out of place in the otherwise stark compound. He seemed oblivious to the others in the room, even to the pretty young girl who brought him a drink and smiled.

  Shane zoomed out - a daunting task that hurt his head. He saw eight or nine men huddled over a table, papers scattered everywhere. They spoke excitedly in the local dialect, sometimes arguing, sometimes laughing. Shane wasn’t able to see their faces, hunched over as they were, but he knew this was happening now - not in a past or future timeline.

  “They’re discussing plans. Something about Time Lock.”

  “Do you mean Time Lift?”

  “Yes, sorry. Interpretation isn’t my strong suit.”

  “Ah, Jesus. Time Lift. That’s what I was afraid of.” Markson ran his fingers through his choppy blonde hair, then scribbled a note on Post-It pad lying on the desk.

  Shane had never heard of Time Lift, and wasn’t fool enough to ask. The military had strange names for everything, both innocent and insidious. Sometimes, the less you knew the better.

  “Can you tell when they plan on making their move?” Markson asked, now pacing.

  “I’ll try.”

  It was easier this time, like going through a locked door you’d already picked the last time through. Asha must have lost a round of his video game; he cursed and was reprimanded by one of the men – a man with a wide scar across his left cheek.

  “Asha, turn that thing off and join us,” his father insisted. The boy reluctantly turned and trudged to the table. “I don’t know why you play games, when we are living this great adventure. Look! All this is our territory now.” The man stabbed his finger into a map. “And soon, all this will be ours as well.” He circled the opposite end of the map, pointing at a spot Shane couldn’t see. “Why be a prince of video games when you can be a prince of the real world?”

  The boy reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a thick pair of glasses. They made him look even younger. He leaned over the map and studied it, just as two women came into the room and were quickly warned away.

  “Do we really need more than we already have, Father?” Asha asked. “We have so much.”

  “The only way to protect what’s ours is to secure our borders.”

  “But people will be hurt,” the boy protested. Some of the older men laughed, clutching their bloated bellies.

  “People will always get hurt, my son. It’s the way of the world. But out of chaos comes order. You’ll understand, when you are older.”

  “This isn’t what Mama would have wanted.”

  The room went silent and anger filled the man’s eyes. He loomed over his son, dwarfing him. His arms were large and heavily muscled. A soldier’s arms. His face had seen far more battles than the lone scar attested to. Shane could feel the fear rolling off Asha.

  “You were warned never to speak of your mother around me.”

  “I’m sorry, father.”

  “You’re always sorry. And yet, you continue to speak of her.”

  “I’m her son.”

  “You’re my son! She was weak.” He looked Asha over, sneering. “You are too much like her. That’s why I’m trying to make you a man.”

  The boy lowered his head. “Thank you, father.”

  “Now, stop with the video games. It’s time to grow up. Tomorrow, Time Lift commences and you’ll deliver the message.”

  “The message?”

  A few nervous chuckles broke the strained silence. The man reached into a box, removing a sack. It wasn’t large, but judging from the way Asha strained in receiving it, it was heavy. The boy peeked inside, then quickly closed it again.

  Asha raised his face to his father. “No. I won’t be your messenger.”

  The man opened his jacket, revealing the hilt of a knife tucked into his waistband. “Your sister would be very sad if her brother disappeared, don’t you think?” He nodded towards the pretty girl who had offered Asha a drink earlier, sitting in the adjoining room. She was peeling a piece of fruit. Two of the older men stared at her, as if she were a piece of candy.

  “All right,” Asha said, his lip quivering as he looked away from his sister. “I’ll go.”

  “You’ll enjoy yourself,” his father reassured him, patting him hard on the back. “It will be just like your video game, but much more fun. When you return, we’ll have a party and celebrate your found manhood.”

  The men congratulated him, offering him cigars. But Asha’s eyes never left his sister.

  Shane turned away in disgust. Damn it. Just a kid. He thought his own childhood had been hard, but he couldn’t imagine what Asha was going through. He bit his tongue to fully break contact, and noticed he was bathed in sweat.

  “What did you see?” Markson demanded.

  Shane thought briefly of telling him he hadn’t gotten a clear read after all. Then, he could maybe ste
al away in the middle of the night and rescue the boy and his sister.

  But that was insane. Even if he did make it out of camp unnoticed, he would almost certainly be killed in the rescue attempt. He knew how to fight, but he wouldn’t last long against so many armed men. Neither would those kids.

  “They are planning the raid tomorrow,” Shane said reluctantly, closing the laptop, so that he wouldn’t have to look at the boy anymore. Asha was already going to haunt his dreams. “They’re telling the boy to deliver something first. It might be a bomb.”

  “Ah, fuck. Fuck!” Markson wiped his neck. “Tomorrow? Are you sure?”

  “That’s what I saw.”

  “Okay, soldier.”

  “Shane Doler,” he corrected. He hated being called a soldier.

  “Whatever. Are you sure about this?”

  “As sure as I can be.”

  Markson shook his head. “I hope for both our sakes that you’re as good as they claim, because I’m putting our asses on the line with this.”

  “I didn’t ask for this assignment. If whatever you’re about to do goes bad, it’s on your heads, not mine.”

  It was a bold statement towards a superior officer, but Shane knew he had leverage. No one could force him to track anyone. And he had no personal ties, at least that they knew of, that could be used against him.

  “What’s the name of the village?” Markson asked.

  “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

  The captain looked doubtful. He was obviously an intelligent man. A stupid one would have threatened court martial. But Markson understood Shane’s advantage. “What’s your condition?”

  “You bring the boy and his sister back. Get them out of there.”

  “He’s got a sister? This gets better and better. Yes, of course we’ll get them out. We just want the man in charge. Just give me the village name.”

  “Do I have your word?” Shane asked, staring into the captain’s steely gray eyes.