by J. D. Dexter
“What happened to the other Creatives?” I ask, not really sure I want to know.
“We are unsure where they come from. The three we know of have all been of normal creation, from normal to mid-range original essences. You were created from two very powerful essences. Technically, as a Creative, there are few things you are unable to do with your adira, but that is what training will tell us,” Keziry says.
“Excellent, training. What all is involved in this? Will Josh and Hunter also need training? Does she need to be taking some form of martial arts—er, learning mechanics of fighting—to aid in her training?” Brent asks, his questions firing like bullets, his thumbs poised over his phone screen.
“Adira training is life-long. Because our adira changes throughout our lifetimes, there is no end-state to what can be achieved. Another reason for our entertainment to center on training or learning. With more knowledge of others and ourselves, we can increase our ability to manipulate the adira within us,” Keziry says.
“However, it should be noted that there is a limit to the amount of adira you have, and the amount of power you can claim through the adira itself. But once that limit has been reached, the only way to increase your power is to kill other people and consume their adira.”
Keziry’s statement falls like a boulder.
“So, Anixia’s genocide served two purposes then.” I make it a statement.
Brockten nods.
“I guess there’re four things we need to discuss. The last being the prophecy. When did this prophecy come about anyways? Oh, and before I forget again, can you write it out for me? I would like to know where the emphases are, what clues might be gleaned from its proper form,” Brent says.
“I would like to inspect that device once we are finished discussing your list of items,” Brockten says, his face showing the barest amount of interest.
“I can’t share mine with you due to sensitive information, but Brian has the same style. He should be able to show you his,” Brent says.
Brian nods.
Brockten leans over and helps Brent compose the prophecy in its correct form. Brent reads it out to us,
“Crescent ruination conceived by Midnight.
Darkness destroyed/Ashen Angel birthright.”
“The prophecy was first found in our tomes in Year Three,” Keziry says. “We have no idea from where it came, nor who wrote it. The tome it was found in also had other prophecies in it that have come to pass. While it is not the oldest prophecy in the tome, it is one of the few that has not yet come to fruition. It is also the one most Ankarrahi have been waiting to see fulfilled.” She takes a drink.
“We were hoping that when Anixia vanished that it had been fulfilled. But all other prophecies, once completed, are faded on the pages—almost like someone tried to erase them, but was unsuccessful in removing them completely. This prophecy is still within the pages of the tome. There are close to one thousand pages in the tome. We have fewer than one hundred prophecies remaining.”
“What happens when the prophecies run out?” Brian asks.
“We have no idea. Our world existed before the prophecies began, I could only assume that our world will continue once the prophecies are fulfilled,” Keziry says. “I have heard rumors of new prophecies appearing in the pages of the original tome though.”
Brockten looks surprised: a subtle shift of his eyebrows up towards his hairline.
“You don’t have another big book of prophecies just lying around?” Brian asks, tongue in cheek.
“No, we do not.” Keziry shakes her head.
We really need to work on sarcasm and euphemisms with these people.
“If your young are born of spirit, why did Anixia say she birthed me then?”
“Anixia, because of her power level, held your ante-spirit with hers until your adira ignited,” Keziry says. “This is not the general practice of having young on Ankarrah. Most essence sharings take place in a small, sacred building—similar to your places of worship. The merged essences are housed in special containers until the young’s adira ignites. Detailed records are kept to keep track of mergings.”
“That must explain why Anixia said we were inextricably linked when she found me on the Psy-Matrix the first time.” I say, more to myself that anyone else.
“Most probably. We had only known about you for four years. Your adira signature, even as weak as it was, vanished totally from Ankarrah just after your fourth year began. Usually, adira does not mature until the tenth year. It is during this time that others are not able to tell who your family is by the signature of your adira,” Keziry explains. “Only parents and young are able to feel the link. Once you reach maturity, others can sense your adira connections.”
“You have no signature at all. Your adira was too immature for familial recognition by outsiders. Additionally, while we could feel your adira, it seemed smaller and less powerful than your parents’ power statuses would have had us believe. Anixia probably assumed that you would not be able to boost her power base to a significant degree, and thus was not working very hard to find you,” Brockten adds.
“Once you were taken from Ankarrah, your signature was totally erased. We had assumed that Anixia killed you and took what small portion of power you might have had to begin with,” Keziry says.
“Bad luck for her,” Brockten says seriously.
Keziry laughs. “Indeed, quite the bad luck.”
“Brockten, was that a joke?” I ask, almost giddy.
He stares at me. “No, simply a statement of fact.”
I sigh.
“Anixia is not known for her generosity or loving side. She had many other young, from previous mergings, but these young were almost disabled in terms of adira. They had but a tiny sliver of adira available to them. Most of Anixia’s young were never seen again after the Cullings began,” Keziry says. “There are rumors about very powerful young, but they have never been verified.”
I can feel the delicious steak I just consumed turning sour in my stomach.
“So not only did she kill other people’s babies, she murdered her own?”
The Ankarrahi Natives nod, their faces solemn.
“Man, that woman is a piece of work,” I say disgustedly.
“Why wasn’t I killed then? Especially if everyone thought I was a dud in the adira department as well.”
“As I mentioned previously, you went missing between your fourth and fifth years. The order to begin searching for you was only issued after you had been missing for two weeks.”
“Wow. We generally put out Amber Alerts within a couple of hours, not weeks, here on Earth.”
“It was only when your Keeper said something to the House Guard General that the alarm was raised. Anixia said nothing about it.” Keziry looks at me, apology in her eyes.
“Of course not, I wasn’t the SuperBaby she had been hoping for.” I snort. “Who stole me? I should probably shake their hands and give them a hug or something.”
“We have no idea. It wasn’t until Shavix reached us on Ankarrah directly after you left that we even knew you were still alive.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“Does that mean Jessica is still on Ankarrah?”
“Yes. He remains the Out Prime for the Southern Region.”
A clench deep in my stomach gives away my relief. “I’ll be right back.” Scooting away from the table, I quickly get up and go inside.
I barely get the bathroom door shut before the tears fall from my eyes.
How could I betray my parents, my real parents, so quickly? Stuffing my fist against my mouth to stem the sobbing noises, I turn on the water full blast with my other hand.
Flashes of memories streak across my mind. The afternoon after I beat up those bullies who were picking on Josh, I rushed home and into my mom’s comforting arms. I fell into her arms and bawled for hours. I had been so scared.
All the times Dad took me out driving a stick shift. I only wrecked three old beater cars, but I
learned how to do it right. The shock and joy of getting a new-to-me car for my sixteenth birthday.
Watching Mom and Dad grieve when Mom’s mom, Nonna, passed away from cancer. The gloom and heartache that my mom carried for weeks broke my own heart.
Dad beaming when I told him Josh was taking me to the prom. Dad didn’t want me going with some jerk who only wanted in my panties. I’m pretty sure Dad paid for all our night, too. Everything from the flowers to the limo.
“Fin, open the door.” Josh knocks softly.
At some point I must have dropped to the floor. I manage an awkward scoot-roll to give him enough space to get through. He bends his long legs and sits next to me in silence.
“I’m an awful person, Josh.” I tip my head back against the wall, the rush of tears slowing.
“Yeah, sometimes.” He says seriously. “But this isn’t one of those times, Fin. You just lost the only parents you knew two days ago. Knowing you have some kind of family, one who’s not a fucking monster, has got to be a relief.”
“What if my joy in hurting people, because let’s be honest, it is kind of fun, is the start of me turning into someone like Anixia?” I voice my worst fear.
He turns to look at me. “If you believe that, you’re an idiot.” He snorts. “Fin, you cried for a week when you hurt Missy Stutgard’s feelings by not inviting her to your birthday party when we were twelve. You didn’t invite anyone but me, but you still cried that her feelings had been hurt.”
“And it’s not like you go out and butcher people with a smile and a ‘have a nice day.’ You only cause them pain, you don’t hurt them. Get out of your own way, Fin. I think you’re wonderful…for the most part.” He winks at me. “Besides, if you go all Evil Queen, I’ll take you out myself. Now, suck it up, whiner, we’ve got things to discuss.”
He kisses my forehead, brushes the tear tracks from my cheeks, and stands up. Grabbing his outstretched hand, I hug him.
“Thanks for kicking my butt into gear.”
“Anytime…seriously, anytime.” He gives me a squeeze and then opens the door.
“I know she’s taken some women’s self-defense, but other than that, I’m not sure what kind of fight training she’s had,” Brent is saying as Josh and I make our way back outside.
“That’s about it,” I say as I sit down.
“We need to do some sparring to ascertain your skill level and competency, and where we need to go for training on the physical side. We already have a pretty good idea of what you can do with the adira, but we will begin training in that area as well,” Keziry says.
“Before we get too far down that road, I want to discuss what happened with Drake.” Brent puts his hand in the air, palm out.
“Seconded,” Brian, Hunter, and Josh reply.
“That is fine. I need another beverage though,” Keziry says.
“I’ll get it, you stay there and start talking.” Brian stops her movement. “Just talk a little louder so I can hear everything.” He grabs her glass and heads back inside, leaving the door open behind him.
Her amethyst and emerald eyes darken as she watches him.
I knock her elbow with mine. “You were saying.”
“Right.” She clears her throat as a hint of color touches her cheeks. “Right. When you sent adira into Drake’s mind, you essentially plugged in a…” She motions with her hands. First drawing what looks like a huge box, she makes a small ring with her index finger and thumb and pulls the ring out from the side of the box.
“A generator,” Brent guesses.
“An electrical cord,” Josh offers.
She shakes her head; a look of intense concentration clouds her face. She motions in the air again, although now it looks like a circle with a spike coming up from the middle. If her wiggling fingers are anything to go by it could be a…
“Bathtub with a shower faucet.” I answer.
Everyone stops and just looks at me.
“What? That’s what it looked like. Don’t look at me because she sucks as charades.” I hunch my shoulders as everyone laughs.
“An electrical device that retrieves stored information from various systems,” Brockten says.
All the Earth kids sit and look at each other, our faces blank.
“I don’t think we have those. The best we’ve got are nerds with computer skills. We don’t have anything that pulls information out of a storage area of any kind,” Brent says.
“Oh.” Keziry looks a little surprised. “You have computers that you can carry in your pocket, but you don’t have external data retrieval systems?”
We all shake our heads. “Not that we know of anyways,” I say.
“Interesting,” Brockten says. He looks bored again.
“You can recharge a battery or use a generator for temporary external power, but that’s about all we’ve got that might be close,” Brian says after giving Keziry her refill.
“Restoring power would be the closest analogy then. If you consider Drake’s mind to be a computer that had the electricity shut off, then Finley’s adira would have restarted it, thus allowing her to access his…” She looks a little uncertain.
“Hard drive,” I say.
“Yes.” She nods. “When you saw his memories, it would have been like downloading those files from his hard drive.”
“So, what happened when the people in the weird altar room were chanting? You got a little freaked when Finley was telling us about that part,” Hunter says.
“You also said that Drake was part of ‘The Order,’ and from the way you said it, it was/is bad,” Brent says. He’s got his phone out still, his fingers poised to take more notes.
“The Order is the nickname of an anti-Ankarrahi movement. Its full name is The Obsidian Order.”
Something about that name rings a distant bell, but not strong enough for me to catch the tune.
“Why would Drake, who was a member of the House Guard, be part of The Obsidian Order?” Brian asks.
“We do not know. We will have much to investigate once we return to Ankarrah,” Brockten says.
“What are they trying to achieve? What makes them anti-Ankarrahi?” Hunter asks. He’s good at staying on topic. Much better than the rest of us, although Josh usually keeps us in line.
“The Obsidian Order wants us to move from inclusive to exclusive. They do not want to share the advancements or wealth of Ankarrahi with other worlds. They would like to kill the less powerful, absorb their adira, and become more like gods than men. They have been around since Year One Hundred,” Brockten intones.
“They began as a group of scholarly men and women who were interested in technological and health advancements. They were so excited to learn more about how others from different worlds and cultures could help us learn and achieve more on our world.”
“For example, one of such peoples and cultures, the Licibious, are more metallic than humanoid. Their underlying structures are made from a metal—cibony—that when struck with adira can be absorbed by Ankarrahi bodies. Upon taking the cibony into their bodies, they were able to craft metal weapons with their thoughts and adira projections.”
“Many of our swords are made from cibony/adira constructs. We can craft any weapon we can think of, although only some weapons are used by House Guards. The weapons are essentially indestructible. The only way to destroy them is for someone to reabsorb the cibony and adira into their bodies. Because only Creatives can absorb power in such a way, the weapons remain,” Brockten continues.
“So, if I were struck with one of your weapons, then…what? What would happen to me?” I ask him.
“That is something we could cover in training. But, as a Creative, you could simply absorb the metal and the adira. If you could not, you would be hurt as any of us are,” he explains.
“Back to The Obsidian Order,” Hunter says.
“Right. The Order. Upon learning this about the Licibious, The Order secretly began to trap and extract cibony from their young. We war w
ith their planet—Licibony—to this day,” Brockten says quietly.
“After the Trium heard of these atrocities, The Order was disbanded. The members simply continued their activities in secret and still carry out their experiments and seditious acts to this day. If any newcomers cross the borders into Ankarrah, some of their races are quickly taken and experimented on. The Order rapes them of their uniqueness for personal gain.” Brockten shakes his head.
“Ankarrah prides itself on welcoming all worlds, peoples, and cultures who would like to share information and experiences. We do not house any large groups of the newcomers on Ankarrah, but we do form allegiances with most of them.”
“And the ones who don’t like you, or you don’t like them?”
“As long as they don’t attack us, we do not attack them. However, if they wish us harm, we are more than able to defend ourselves,” Brockten says.
“Over the millennia, The Order has grown bolder. They openly recruit new members, practice child sacrifice, such as what Finley saw in her memory-scrape of Drake,” Keziry says.
I shudder.
“The Order has a strict hierarchy, and only those at the top get to participate in the child sacrifices—at the point of death, the gathered Order members absorb the child’s adira. They pick strong children, drug them, and then sacrifice them,” Brockten snarls.
“If Drake was attending the child sacrifice, then he must have been pretty high up in terms of hierarchy, right?” I ask for clarification.
Keziry and Brockten both look like they’re about to pummel bears barehanded. “Yes, that would be a logical assumption, given our current data,” Brockten says. “We must find Shavix’s Earth informant and make him aware of our findings with Drake and Finley.”
A deep, rumbling voice calls out from everywhere and nowhere, “That will not be necessary. I have already been informed.”
Crap, crap, crap.
12
Brockten and Keziry leap to their feet, their backs ramrod straight. It doesn’t even look like Keziry is breathing, her chest is so still. Brockten’s eyes are wide enough to see white all the way around his irises; that’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen on his face.
