Black Knight

by Christopher Pike

  “Clearly. I can tell by the way you talk about Sam that you trust him. But you must keep this incident in mind.” Cleo pauses. “Now Kyle, he’s had a checkered past. He’s been arrested twice on drug charges and once for assaulting a police officer. But he’s never been to jail. Each time the charges were dropped.”

  “The Lapras?” I ask.

  “We assume Lapra influence. We know for a fact a highly placed Lapra executive secured a recording deal for him and launched his career. You’ve seen how often his music videos play on MTV. Someone pays for that time.”

  “Kyle freely admits to being rock’n’roll’s latest bad boy.”

  “What better way to divert your suspicions than to admit to being corrupt? He’s not gotten as far as he has so fast without being ambitious. That doesn’t necessarily make him evil. Still . . .”

  “You want me to keep an eye on both of them.”

  “A sharp eye,” Cleo says.

  “How about Viper’s hand? I lost fingers when I fought Russ but they grew back. Can her hand regenerate?”

  “You lost the tips of your fingers. A hand is another matter, and it sounds like you severed it above the wrist. It would take a master healer to repair such damage and Viper is too young to possess such ability. You’ve definitely wounded her but keep in mind there’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.”

  “Any thoughts on Nordra?”

  “I know you felt pressure to protect your people from Viper’s attack, but you erred when you wounded Nordra and didn’t finish him. Now both are still out there. Don’t repeat your mistake. Viper and Nordra must know where you’re heading. They’ll be waiting for you at the top of the volcano.”

  “What can you tell me about that dark wall?”

  Cleo hesitates. “You have to see it for yourself.”

  “But you’ve seen it already.” When Cleo doesn’t respond, I realize I’ve hit a nerve. I speak carefully. “Kendor told me that the Field was hard on you. That you barely survived.”

  “The Field is hard on everyone.”

  The way Cleo says “everyone” strikes me as odd. I experience a flash of insight. Even before I quiz her on the point, I know the truth.

  “You weren’t a witch when you were put in the Field,” I say. “Your mentor connected you there.”

  Cleo takes forever to respond. “Yes.”

  “He sacrificed his life to save you.” For the second time Cleo refuses to reply, and I feel a sharp pain in my heart. I force out my next words. “Is it true only one can survive? That there’s no hope for the rest of my team?”

  Cleo repeats what Jimmy told me.

  “You have to stay alive, Jessica.”

  * * *

  Syn greets me at the house in Pacific Palisades and leads me into the living room, where Kendor is waiting. Immediately I know something’s changed. The feeling in the air is much more serious.

  Yesterday, there had been a degree of unreality to our meeting. They had hardly spoken about the fact they had been shuffled through time. Sure, Syn had asked about what their present-day counterparts were doing—and I had lied when I’d given the impression they were still alive—but the sheer weirdness of their situation had not been discussed.

  And I had let it go. I was there for a purpose, I had told myself. To learn from two experienced witches how to stay alive in the Field. I had been relieved when Kendor had quickly started my training. There was no way I wanted to talk about his dying. I feared I would get emotional.

  Now, today, it’s like the two are more aware of their surroundings, and I can’t help but wonder at the progression. From dazed zombies at the mall, to compliant instructors yesterday, to . . . what today? For the first time since they died last month, I feel like they’re totally in the room.

  Syn eyes me suspiciously. “Who are you?” she asks.

  I sit up straight. “You asked me that yesterday. My story hasn’t changed. I’m Jessica Ralle. The Alchemist—the old man you call William—brought you here to help train me for the Field.”

  Syn shakes her head. “Nothing you say explains why we are here. And this place.” She looks around as if it’s haunted. “I do not like it.”

  “Yesterday you seemed at home,” I say.

  “Yesterday was a long time ago,” Kendor remarks.

  I feel as if there’s no point in trying to lie to them. These are the Syn and Kendor of old—two of the sharpest minds the world has ever known. I feel their eyes on me, studying. If I lie they’ll know it.

  Yet I try to stall until I can get a better idea of what’s happened to them. “You’re witches. It’s natural for you to experience every day twice.”

  “That is not what we mean,” Syn says.

  “Yesterday was tomorrow,” Kendor explains. “We moved through time again. Maybe it was the Alchemist, maybe a bright light, we do not know. But we were in the future, your future.”

  I remember how I saw a light before I was abducted.

  Marc saw the same light. I saw it through his eyes.

  “How long were you in this future?” I ask.

  “Long enough,” he says.

  “See anything interesting?” I ask.

  Syn and Kendor exchange a look that chills me to the bone.

  “The question is why we are moving through time at all,” Syn says. “It is an extraordinary event. It makes sense that there should be a profound reason behind it. But today, and the day we saw you last, all we did was wait for you to arrive so we could train you to survive in the Field.”

  “Not that the Field is not important,” Kendor says. “But it seems someone wants to give you an edge.”

  “Someone wants you to survive,” Syn adds.

  I nod. “There may be some truth to that. The training you gave me with the sword, the telekinesis you helped activate—it’s already saved me from a ton of grief.”

  “We are grateful we have been of some help,” Syn says. “Yet you seem as puzzled as us why we are here.”

  “All I know is what I’ve told you,” I say.

  “Did you know that we are dead in this time?” Syn asks.

  I hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Why did you lie the other day?” Kendor asks.

  “I didn’t want to upset you by telling you such shocking news.”

  Syn never takes her eyes off me. “Was there another reason?”

  “I was there when you both died.”

  “Were you responsible?” Syn asks sharply.

  I feel a sudden wave of anger. It catches me off guard but it’s real, and very powerful. “No, you were responsible,” I snap.

  Syn tenses, as if she’s ready to stand, to strike even. She fights for control. Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head. “I do not believe it,” she says.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Kendor asks.

  “I’d rather not,” I say.

  “Why not?” Syn demands.

  “Before you died, you and I were friends,” I tell Kendor. “You told me all about your life. How you fell in an icy lake as a young man and were saved by the Alchemist. How you helped Caesar defeat the Gauls at the Battle of Alesia. How you first saw Syn in a Roman crowd and fell in love with her. You also told me you had vague visions, only you didn’t know at the time what you were seeing. But these visions, they were of now, which tells me that everything that happens between us in this house—you will forget it when you return to your time.” I pause to catch my breath. “That’s why there’s no point in explaining everything to you.”

  There’s a long silence in the room.

  “Were we friends?” Syn finally asks.

  “No,” I say.

  Syn smiles faintly. “That I can well believe.”

  “Perhaps we should concentrate on the task at hand,” Kendor says, taking my remark
about them forgetting everything to heart. He asks me to tell them what’s been happening in the Field.

  So for the third time that day I recount my adventures on the island. Syn and Kendor have never heard of Sam and Kyle but listen patiently as I describe them in detail. Like Cleo, they don’t appear to trust either of them.

  “They know the rules as well as you do,” Kendor says when I finish. “It is natural they should approach you and suggest an alliance, especially after seeing what Viper and Nordra are capable of. But never forget that all alliances in the Field are temporary.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I reply. “Kyle’s a wild card, it’s true, but Sam genuinely seems to care. I feel I can trust him.”

  “There are witches who can make you fall in love with them,” Syn warns. “Take a person born with the powers of magnetism—or what you probably call ‘cloaking’—and telepathy. Once his abilities become active, they feed off each other, making him almost impossible to resist. He could tell you to jump off a cliff and you would do it.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” I say.

  “She is not,” Kendor says. “That combination of abilities is rare but we have seen it. Such a person could appear to do almost nothing and yet control the entire Field.” He pauses. “Whose idea was it to climb to the top of the volcano?”

  “Kyle’s,” I say before stopping to consider. “Well, it was Sam who told us how it was either the wall or the cave that held the key to escaping the island. But . . .” My voice trails off.

  “But you are not sure why you are hiking to the top of the volcano,” Syn says, finishing for me.

  They have made their point.

  Obviously, I don’t know how to answer.

  Like the man I used to know, Kendor tires of talking and wants to dive back into training. Taking me out to the backyard, he tests what he taught me the previous day. He uses the length of the grass to throw spears at my chest. However, today he orders me to deflect them with my mind. His methodology is intense; there’s no room for error. If I fail to block a spear I’ll die.

  Kendor is worse than a drill sergeant. After a continuous thirty-minute barrage, I feel my mental grip begin to waver and swipe away a spear with my hand. The next one I manage to deflect with telekinesis, but the one after that I have to knock away with my other hand. I feel myself weakening and fear Kendor will step up his assault. But he suddenly stops and congratulates me.

  “I have never seen anyone use that ability for so long,” he says.

  “Even Syn?”

  “Even Syn. Have you tried lifting your body into the air?”

  “Not since you threw me off the cliff.”

  “Have any of your opponents levitated?”

  “No.”

  “Viper?” Kendor presses.

  “Her ability to hit us with lava is killing us. That and her invisibility. I wish there was some way to see through her cloak.”

  “There is a reason the power is referred to as ‘cloaking.’ The person is still there, no witch can ever be totally invisible. The key is to be attentive to what is around you.” Kendor pauses and gives a sly grin. “Darling?”

  Suddenly I’m aware we’re not alone. I feel a presence off to my right, six feet away. As I turn in that direction Syn appears and laughs at me.

  “I did not make a sound. Good work,” she says.

  I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have become aware of you if Kendor hadn’t given me that hint.”

  “Perhaps,” Syn says. “You might have better luck with Viper if you improve your own ability to cloak. I understand you can mimic the appearance of others?”

  “It’s one of my strengths.”

  Syn is unconvinced. “It is one thing to fool a human. It is another to fool a witch.” She turns to her husband. “I will take over her training for now.”

  Syn leads me into the house, to the bedroom where they appear to sleep. There’s a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and like when Herme—her son, ironically—gave me my first instructions in cloaking, Syn leads me through a series of grueling steps designed to fool even her.

  What I find fascinating is how much her lessons on cloaking remind me of the problems special-effects experts run into while creating realistic scenes on a computer. I’ve always been fascinated by CGI and I’ve studied it on the Internet.

  For example, Syn orders me to mimic her face, with her standing beside me, and I get everything right except for her hair. When I turn my head and toss her hair, it refuses to flow naturally. Syn being Syn, she scolds me that I’m not trying hard enough.

  Pointing out that CGI experts have the same problem fails to illicit her sympathy, possibly because she’s never seen a movie before, but more likely because basically she’s a tough bitch. Yes, her husband did throw me off a cliff to teach me a lesson, but at least with Kendor I had fun. With Syn work is work, she is all business.

  Yet after spending several hours in her company, I finally put on a face that even she has to admit is flawless. The trick, she teaches, is not how well I mold my features but how strong my belief is. Herme taught me something similar but his mother’s standards are far more stringent.

  “Believe you are who you pretend to be and no one will question your identity,” Syn says, summing up her philosophy.

  I nod. “I’m grateful for the time you’ve given me. But I’m puzzled why you haven’t let me try to turn invisible.”

  Syn acts as if my complaint is childish. “Because you’re incapable of doing that right now. But more important, you have not been listening to what we have been trying to teach you. You need to reflect on what we told you earlier.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” I say.

  “That is why you need to reflect on it.”

  “All right, if it’s reflection you want, then answer this. When you and Kendor spoke about being shuffled in time, you went out of your way to say you had been in my future, not simply in the future. Was that a slip of the tongue or were you trying to tell me something?”

  “What does ‘slip of the tongue’ mean?”

  “What were you trying to tell me?” I demand.

  For the first time since I have met her—in this time frame and when I knew her in Las Vegas—Syn appears flustered. It takes me a moment to figure out why.

  “You’re worried about me!” I gasp.

  Syn shrugs. “Naturally we are concerned for your safety. The Field is a dangerous testing ground.”

  “No, it’s something else, something you saw when you went into the future. What did you see? My dead body?”

  Syn hesitates. “Not exactly.”

  “Damnit! What did you see?”

  Syn gazes into my eyes. No one knows better than I do how easily she can cloak her expression, but clearly she feels the time for disguise has passed.

  “Before I answer your question, tell me why you fear me.”

  Like me, she’s asking for the truth. A blunt answer isn’t hard to find. “Because you change as you grow older. You become a monster.”

  Syn sucks in a painful breath. “Why?”

  “Grief. Pain over the loss of those you love.”

  “I have already lost my son.”

  “You will lose others.” I pause. “I’m sorry.”

  She sighs. “So am I, Jessica.”

  I don’t speak, I can’t. I wait.

  Finally, Syn answers my question.

  “A month from now, Kendor and I were at your memorial service,” she says.

  * * *

  Without saying good-bye to either of them, I flee the house, jumping in my car and driving aimlessly. When I finally stop, I realize I have driven to the jagged part of the coast where Kendor threw me off the cliff. Getting out of the car, I step to the edge and stare out at the sea. My confusion is as deep as the ocean is vast. Two questions t
orment me. . . .

  Did they attend my funeral in the real world or witch world?

  Can the fact that I know the future allow me to change it?

  If I die in the real world, where the Field is taking place, then it’s possible I’ll still be alive in witch world. Jimmy died from an overdose of drugs in the real world and I still see him every other day in witch world. Yet, to me, with the exception of missing Jimmy and Lara, the real world is where I feel most comfortable and if I should perish in the Field, then at best I’ll go on living half a life.

  However, it’s possible the Alchemist gave Syn and Kendor a glimpse of my future so they could alert me to alter my course. But how exactly am I supposed to do that?

  Kendor had gone out of his way to warn me that all alliances in the Field are temporary, while Syn had said that I still wasn’t hearing what they were trying to teach me. Were the two trying to give me hints as to how to alter my future? Were they saying I absolutely had to stop trusting Sam and Kyle? If I did that, I’d be essentially alone on the island, with no one to help me fight off Viper and Nordra. And Marc . . . he would almost certainly be killed.

  “The Field will not change who I am!” I shout at the sea. The words just explode out of me but I feel they must have originated deep inside. Because I know they are true.

  I’m not going to become a perverted and plotting beast in order to survive the Field. If I do that, if I betray everything I believe in and everyone who is counting on me to protect them—just to save my own skin—then my life will hardly be worth living, in either world. Because then I’ll become what Syn is destined to become.

  I’ll become the monster.

  My hands shake. I take my cell out of my pocket and dial Marc’s number. His voice sounds thick when he answers and I suspect I’ve woken him from a nap. With his other half wounded and suffering in the Field, he might be feeling more tired than usual, I don’t know.

  “Still want to meet?” I ask.

  “I haven’t thought about anything else all day.”

  “When and where?”

  He chuckles. “You know where I live?”

  “I told you I did.”

  “Then come over now.”