Hunter Brown and the Eye of Ends

by Chris Miller

  Dad looked away, unable to look me in the eye. “It’s not like that.”

  “Yes...it is. I risked my life to find you because I always thought family was worth the risk. I thought you would understand that but, boy, I was wrong. You’re nothing but a…a coward!” I said.

  Dad locked eyes with me as if to challenge the statement, but the truth of it hit home and I saw tears welling up in his eyes.

  “Son, please. I don’t expect you to understand it all yet....” Dad was pleading with me but I wouldn’t hear any more of it.

  “No. I think I already do,” I replied bitterly. I shook my head in disgust and stomped off toward the door.

  I was surprised to find Trista standing in the doorway and was embarrassed to think she might have seen my last interaction with Dad.

  “Trista? What are you doing here?” I tried to fake a cheerful voice as I quickly wiped away any trace of the hot tears I’d felt slip out moments earlier. “I was just on my way back,” I explained as I walked quickly by her.

  “I got worried. Is everything okay?” Trista asked, shifting her worried glance from me to the stranger left standing on the balcony, not missing the visible tension stretching between us.

  “Yeah, turns out I just found the wrong guy,” I said loud enough for Dad to hear.

  “Oh, I see,” Trista said with a knowing sadness.

  I was silently grateful for the stacks of worthless junk laying in the way for me to angrily kick at as I passed through them en route to the mirror’s exit. By the time I reached the empty frame, Trista was standing by my side.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I tried to quench the anger that had built up inside, but there was no way to keep it from boiling over.

  “This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” I said angrily. “He doesn’t care about anything but himself.”

  “People don’t always do what we expect them to,” Trista offered. “I heard a little of what you said to each other,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly. “For what it’s worth, I think your father still cares for you. He probably just needs more time.”

  “Time for what?” I shot back. “He’s had all the time in the world.”

  “I don’t know. He’s obviously running from something.”

  “He’s running from me and from his family. You know what? I don’t want to talk about it right now. You ready?”

  Trista nodded. She went over to the mirror portal and with a touch, the surface lit up just as it had on the way in. As she did, I remembered I still had my father’s sword, and I tossed it unceremoniously into a nearby pile, another piece for his prized research collection. Stepping up to join Trista, I took her hand, and with a deep breath leaned in toward the mirror.

  “Hunter, wait!” I cringed to hear my father’s voice calling urgently behind me. Trista kept me from leaving before he reached me. He was out of breath from running.

  “Before you go…I want you to have this,” he said, removing something from his neck; it was a leather strap that held an iron key, the key to his Author’s Writ. I took it and looked back at him with a questioning glance.

  “Perhaps one day it will help you understand,” he said sadly. “Always remember there are two sides to every story, two ways to read the Writ. Promise me you will keep the key safe. No matter what happens beyond that mirror, don’t let anyone know you have it.”

  I shrugged and took the key from him.

  “I want you to know I’m…I’m proud of you, son,” Dad said finally.

  I was still too angry to appreciate the sentiment. Instead, I shoved the key in my pocket and turned my back on him for good. Stepping through the mirror, I left the image of my father and my dreams of having a family behind.

  “Good-bye, Hunter.”

  I heard Dad’s final words reverberating through the streams of light as the portal did its job to erase me from his world…and him from mine.

  Or so I thought.

  Chapter 21

  Chaos in the Castle

  On the other side of the mirror, Desi was nowhere to be found. We left the hidden room behind and returned to the abandoned library. Desi was there, her back turned toward us, dimly silhouetted by the tall, arching library window and the setting sun behind it.

  “Well,” Desi said calmly, eyeing the world outside the window, “what did you find?”

  “He’s there,” I reported, “but he won’t come out.”

  “Not even for his family?” Desi asked, sounding disappointed.

  “No,” I answered, the sting of it still fresh in my memory. “He’s not coming back for anything.”

  Desi pondered the situation in silence, her back still toward us.

  “Pity,” she said. “I was hoping to meet him again.”

  “So, what now?” Trista asked.

  “We destroy the mirror,” Desi said, turning around to face us. There was a darkness in her mismatched eyes I hadn’t noticed before.

  “But if we destroy the mirror, how will he get back?” I asked.

  “He won’t,” Desi said. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only way to keep your father’s bloodstone from returning to our world and falling into the wrong hands. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”

  Desi marched back across the room toward the hidden bookshelf door, her intentions set on destroying the mirror. Despite my recent fallout with my father, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him forever. I stepped in Desi’s path, blocking her from reaching the passage.

  “Step aside, Hunter!” Desi demanded, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “No! We came to rescue my father, not bury him.”

  “You’re wrong,” Desi admitted. “Our mission was never about saving Caleb; it was about stopping Tonomis from getting the power of the Bloodstone…whatever the cost. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.” She forced her way forward again, nearly knocking me over in the process. I stepped back and raised my Veritas Sword at Desi’s chest. She cocked her head at me, seemingly amused by my new aggressiveness.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to fight me, Hunter,” Desi said, pressing her chest against the sword’s tip. “I wasn’t the one who left you behind. If you’re angry, take it out on your father. Destroy the mirror yourself.”

  “How can you say that?” I seethed. Deep inside, I knew she was right. I was angry at my dad: first, for leaving my family, and now, for staying behind when he had the chance to come rescue them.

  “Everyone calm down,” Trista jumped in, trying to diffuse the bomb of emotions that was ready to explode. “Why don’t we find Hope? She might know what the Author has in mind.”

  “The Author has already made his decision,” Desi said. “That’s what frightened your father into hiding in the first place. Do you know what he saw in the Eye of Ends? Did he tell you?”

  I shook my head nervously, still aiming my sword steadily at Desi. She forced a bitter smile.

  “Your father saw that Tonomis would kill him one day; he would steal the Bloodstone and use its power to bring an end to the Author’s reign in Solandria. Is that what you want to happen? Do you want to see everyone in Solandria become Tonomis’ slave?”

  That was a silly question; of course I didn’t want that to happen, but I also didn’t want to kill my father. There had to be another way.

  “You’re lying,” I said. “Simon said you didn’t know what my father saw in the mirror.”

  “You weren’t ready for the truth,” Desi said. “We only told you what you needed to know so you would help us find your father. If you knew the whole truth, you wouldn’t be able to do what has to be done—destroy the mirror and leave your father in the past. With your father gone, the future he saw will never happen. It is the only way to save Solandria, the only way to stop Tonomis.”

  Desi searched my eyes with he
r own, continuing her challenge.

  “Think about it, Hunter. Your father is dead to you anyway. Finish him off and move on with your life. If you do, I promise we can help you find your family. It’s your choice, destroy the mirror or abandon your family…just like your father.”

  For the briefest of moments, I edged my sword closer to Desi, wanting to get even for all her lies. The only problem was I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t a murderer, not like this. I dropped my sword in defeat and ran my fingers through my hair, clasping them at the back of my neck and letting out a deep breath.

  “I’m not my father,” I said.

  “Good,” Desi said, slinking toward the stairway again.

  “But I’m not about to abandon him either.”

  With a dash I lunged toward Desi in hopes of wrestling her to the floor. She moved quicker than I had anticipated, sidestepping my attack and tripping me with her left foot. I stumbled to the ground and jumped back to my feet, circling between her and the staircase.

  “You won’t win this,” Desi said confidently.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not going to make it easy for you, if that’s what you want.”

  Desi lowered her stance and narrowed her eyes at me again. I raced toward her a second time. She squared up with me this time, grabbing my right arm and ducking under it. Before I knew what happened, she twisted it behind my back and forced me to the floor. Straddling my back, she pressed up on my arm to keep me from moving and lowered her face beside my own.

  “Give up,” she whispered, her lips only inches from my ear. “Face it, your father isn’t who you thought he was. What I’m doing is for your own good whether you know it or not. You have to trust me.”

  “Why should I trust you, if you can’t even trust the Author?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Because neither do you,” she said calmly, cutting to the heart of the issue. She locked eyes with me and repeated. “Neither do you.”

  Her words pinned me to the floor harder than any wrestling hold could. Of course I trusted the Author; I had been down this road before. I had trusted him with my very heart when the Bloodstone had its death grip on me. I had trusted him in Dolor when we were prisoners of the Scourge, and I even trusted him when Xaul stole Hope’s last breath. Yes, I had trusted him in tough times before, but now I faced another challenge. Would I trust the Author with the one thing I wanted the most…did I trust him with my father’s fate? Did I trust him with my family?

  Before I could object, Desi leaned over and planted a kiss right on my lips. It was a quick kiss, a bitter kiss—one I hadn’t asked for or wanted, but the taste of it would linger on my lips for several minutes.

  The sight of Desi’s kiss moved Trista into action. She threw herself at Desi and tackled her off my back. It wasn’t a well-planned move, but it did give me enough time to retrieve my Veritas Sword and block the entry again.

  In no time at all, Desi flung Trista off her back like a rag doll.

  “You’re making a mistake, Hunter,” Desi replied. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Just step aside, and nobody will get hurt.”

  Before I knew what happened, Desi pulled out her whip rods and swung the orange whip at my legs, a foot above the floor. I jumped over it and readied for her next move. She criss-crossed her lashes, stepping closer every time. She wasn’t trying to hit me, she was making a point. Using my Veritas Sword, I tried deflecting her attacks, but the length and speed of her whips put me at a disadvantage. With my back against the bookshelf, I had nowhere left to go. I lowered my sword and locked eyes with Desi.

  “That’s more like it,” Desi said, licking her lips and lowering her whip. She must have spotted Trista’s gleaming arrow reflected in my eyes because she ducked before Trista could take the shot. Spinning around with her whip, she knocked the bow out of Trista’s grasp, wounding her hand in the process. Trista’s arrow fired across the room into the velvet curtains that hung on the windows. The curtains burst into flames, adding a sense of urgency to the already tense situation.

  Trista huddled on the floor, clutching her injured hand. I ran to her side to see if I could help. The door to the hidden room was unguarded, but I knew there was no winning this now.

  “Are you okay, Triss?” I asked, examining the cut on the back of her left hand. It was a deep gash, the white of her bones showing through. It had to hurt, but she didn’t cry. She clinched her teeth and fought through the pain.

  “I’m sorry, Hunter,” said Trista. “Your father….”

  “It’s in the Author’s hands now,” I said, releasing myself and my father to whatever the outcome. Before she reached the passageway, Desi hesitated. She glanced over her shoulder unapologetically.

  “You’ll thank me later,” she said, turning back to the hidden stairway. At that moment, the lumbering shape of a troll, ten-feet-tall, stepped out of the shadows of the passageway with a growl. Belac. Desi didn’t have time to react before the beastly creature backhanded her with his powerful arm and sent her sprawling across the room. She collapsed on the floor and rolled to a stop near the doorway.

  “Get out!” the troll growled. “Get out of my house!”

  His words were a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle. Then he saw me. Behind his ugly yellow eyes I knew…he recognized me.

  “We’d better go,” I said to Trista, helping her to her feet. But it was too late. Belac boomed across the room and scooped me up in his arms.

  “You should never have come back, slave,” he grinned viciously, squeezing the breath from my body. “I’m going to enjoy crushing you.”

  There was a flash of orange and Belac released his grip, dropping me to the floor with a howl of pain. Desi had recovered and was on the attack. Belac spun around to face her. The gash that crossed his back looked sore, but not deep. His thick skin provided enough protection to spare him the full shock of the weapon, but it had been enough to hurt him, enough to make him shift his focus. He lumbered across the room toward Desi, who was holding the shackles we had retrieved from the prison.

  “Come on, you brute,” Desi demanded, having successfully averted his anger for the moment. Desi leaped forward, narrowly avoiding Belac’s grasp, and locking one end of the shackle to his wrist in the process. He was too slow to avoid crashing into the wall beside the door. The wall began to crumble with the weight of his massive body—a crack starting toward the ceiling from where he lay. Belac got up and shook it off. In the commotion Desi latched the other half of the shackle to the iron ring, which had once held the torch.

  “Over here, you big lug,” Desi taunted the beast, continuing to keep his focus on her. In an impressive show of pure strength, Belac broke the iron anchor from the wall, bringing a massive piece of the stonework around the doorway with it. Swinging the heavy stone overhead like a weapon, Belac charged at Desi again. She dodged his first attack but the hunk of stone that was anchored to his arm crushed the wall behind her, causing the crack overhead to split and spread further.

  With a major portion of the door support ripped out, the wall above it caved in, blocking our escape to the hallway before we could reach it.

  “What now?” Trista asked, still holding her injured hand.

  Before I could answer, the windows shattered into the room, bursting from the force of a hundred black birds now flooding in. They flocked together and spiraled to the floor, a clear sign that Vogler had found us and was about to appear.

  “I can’t hold them both off, Hunter,” Desi shouted, swinging the whip wide at Belac. Belac returned the favor with a pummeling crash of his boulder.

  “Come on, Triss,” I said, running for the center of the flock. The birds scattered at my approach before regathering in another corner of the room. “If we keep them apart, Vogler can’t form.”

  Trista joined me, running from place to place, delaying Vogler’s ar
rival. Belac looked confused and distracted by the chaos and Desi added two more lashes to his back while he wasn’t looking. This only angered him more. We were holding our ground against the double threat, but it wasn’t going to be enough. The flames in the curtains had already started to spread through the room, setting the ceiling ablaze and weakening the already compromised structure.

  “It’s happening, Hunter,” Desi shouted over the commotion. “Vogler is here for your father. You have to destroy the mirror so we can get out.”

  She was right. Regardless of what I wanted for myself, I had to stop Vogler from getting Dad’s bloodstone, even if it meant never seeing my father again. I knew what I had to do.

  “Scatter Vogler as long as you can,” I told Trista, “but get out through those windows before this place falls down on you.”

  “What about you?” Trista asked, as I picked up my sword and cinched the straps of my backpack tighter.

  “I have a mirror to destroy. It’s the right thing to do. I know that now.” Desi caught my eye and nodded in agreement before narrowly dodging one of Belac’s boulder attacks.

  With newfound purpose, I ran for the hidden room, leaping down the steps, two at a time. Facing the mirror, I raised my sword and made ready to hack it in two. My own reflection stared back, sword raised, daring me to try.

  “Hunter, what are you doing?” a voice seemed to whisper in my ear. It sounded like my father.

  “Giving you what you want,” I said to myself.

  I thrust my sword toward the mirror, but my own reflection countered the attack, magically blocking my sword from penetrating the mirror. I swung again and again; every time my reflection fended off my assault with equal power. I couldn’t seem to win the fight, but I kept trying anyway.

  “The mirror will defend itself,” the voice whispered. “There is no way you can win.”

  I charged forward again. The result was the same as before; my attack was blocked by the blade of the Veritas behind the mirror. I mounted a series of volleys, building one upon another until I had exhausted every attack in my playbook. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my reflection from countering my every move. It saw everything I saw and could react just as fast.