by Jacob Whaler
“You’re hopeless.” He starts to walk away.
Jhata stays close behind him. “I shouldn’t do this, but I’ll give you one more chance. Are you willing to reconsider your decision if I give you a good reason?” She raises one eyebrow and cocks her head to the side.
Matt stops and lifts his chin in the air. “No.”
“Then there’s nothing left for us to discuss.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Behold the power.”
The entire city of glass shatters around them. From the heights of the tallest towers all the way down to street level, the buildings burst into thumbnail-sized bits of jagged crystal. Bloody bodies dressed in traditional Japanese robes rain down around them. The debris piles up a hundred meters deep on all sides, like mountains of diamonds.
But not a particle of dust or glass falls on Jhata or Matt.
She drops her arms and the debris and bodies vanish, leaving behind shimmering ribbons of purple-red plasma that slowly dissipate into nothing.
They are left standing alone on a vast prairie of knee-high grass where the city once stood. A gentle breeze carries the aroma of cherry blossoms across the plain like the waves of the sea.
Jhata stares at Matt in silence. One side of her mouth breaks into a grin.
He discovers that he can’t move anything below his neck. An unseen force binds him as surely as if his body is cast in concrete.
She moves closer to him, dropping a Stone into her belt and reaching her free hand up to his forehead. Her fingers trace a line down the bridge of his nose, cross under one eye, drop down his cheek and stop on his neck just below the jaw.
Matt’s eyes follow the finger. “So now you’re going to kill me?”
“Kill you?” Her lips part just enough for a delicate red tongue to slip out and lick them. “Kill you and take your Stone. Is that what you think I want?”
Matt looks away. “I have no idea what you want.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
The air flashes white.
CHAPTER 122
With the Null Box disengaged, Ryzaard takes his time with the healing.
Matt’s father and the others can run, but they won’t get far.
First, he fixes multiple fractures in his skull. Then the dislocated shoulder. One by one, he works on the bruised kidneys, broken collarbone, ruptured spleen. Last of all, he takes care of the injured ligaments and crushed vertebra in his neck and back.
Kent gave him quite a beating.
But that was all it was ever going to be. As soon as the Stones came back to life, there was nothing Kent could have done to kill him. In fact, it was a rather enjoyable experience.
His eyelids open to the sky, and he reaches out for the present moment until his mind grabs onto it. The air takes on a more tangible quality. A flock of birds above his head freeze in flight. The helicopter goes silent, its blades turning to silent crosses over each wing.
With time stopped, he rises to his feet and scans the old temple site.
The Monkey still lies a short distance away where it dropped at the foot of a broken wall, grasping the Stone in its hand. It might be dead or alive. Either way, it isn’t going anywhere. He will swing back and collect the Stone after he takes care of Kent and his friends.
Starting at one end and methodically walking through the grounds, Ryzaard checks behind boulders, searches through crumbled courtyards and slips behind broken walls and arches, eliminating one by one all the nooks and crannies where a person might hide. On the way, he walks over dozens of dead and mangled bodies of soldiers, some of them still gushing frozen rivers of blood.
After ten minutes of searching, there is no trace of Kent or anyone else. Only a few possible hiding places remain.
He moves around the last remaining stone wall.
And finds them.
Kent and Jake stand together, looking at each other in mid-sentence.
But hadn’t there been a boy with a Stone? And a small girl?
No matter.
Ryzaard takes out the dagger and stares at it. Streaks of his own dried blood still stick to the blade from when Kent stabbed him in the thigh.
He walks up to Kent and looks into his face for a full ten seconds, studying the eyes and the half smile. Ripping Kent’s shirt open, Ryzaard puts the point of the dagger down on his chest.
“No!” A voice yells behind him. “Don’t kill him. I’m the one you want.”
Ryzaard swings around to see the boy standing on the grass, a Stone visibly in his hand. “I remember you. What’s your name?”
“Leo.”
“How old are you, Leo?”
“Fourteen.”
“A bit small for your age, aren’t you?” Ryzaard thrusts the dagger into Kent’s chest and twists it. Then he thrusts it in again and pulls it out.
“No!” Leo runs to Ryzaard and stops a few meters away, dropping to his knees. His eyes are red and swollen. “Please don’t. Let me heal him. Then you can have mine.” He holds his hand out with the Stone.
“That’s noble of you.” Ryzaard takes one step to the left and buries the blade in Jake’s chest. The knife makes no sound as it slides in and out. He stabs again and returns the bloody blade to its leather sheath.
“Why?” Tears roll down Leo’s cheeks. “Why do you kill?”
Ryzaard turns his head. “You wouldn’t understand, but it’s for a good cause.” He steps closer and looks down at Leo with fatherly concern. “Now, about that Stone. Give it to me, and you can have a quick and painless death. Not like these two.”
Leo steps back, wiping the tears from his face and holding his Stone in front like a weapon.
“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Ryzaard lunges forward. At the same time, a jagged bolt of white light shoots out of his Stone and grazes Leo’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
Ryzaard takes a step closer.
Writhing in pain, Leo reaches a hand up to his injured shoulder and stares up at Ryzaard. The smell of burnt flesh floats between them.
“You’re much easier to kill than Matt.” Ryzaard raises the Stone and a thick round line of energy grows out of its base. “This won’t take long.” With as much force as he can muster, Ryzaard brings the line down above Leo with a chopping motion. His angle of attack will split the head in half from brow to chin.
But Leo closes his eyes and vanishes, leaving behind only a brief white flash to mark the spot where he lies.
The energy beam passes through empty air and bites into the ground, throwing up fire and steam and opening a meter wide trench in the grass.
You can run, but you can’t hide.
Ryzaard feels the pull of Leo’s jump, closes his eyes and relaxes into it, letting it suck him along. An instant later, he opens his eyes to see that he’s standing on the green grass at the other end of the field.
Leo stands on his feet leaning against a moss-covered boulder, breathing heavily, holding his shoulder and wincing from the pain. He grips his Stone in the hand of his uninjured arm and looks up into Ryzaard’s eyes.
“You’re wrong, about everything,” Leo says.
“I know your kind. You wish only for the happiness of others and think that makes you better than everyone else. OK, then. I’ll play your game. For the good of the world, give me the Stone. You’ll be making a noble sacrifice.” Ryzaard takes a half step forward. After a moment’s concentration, another bolt of lightning leaps out from the tip of his Stone.
As Leo falls backward, a thin membrane of transparent blue forms around him. The lightning strikes him just above the knee in a shower of sparks. The boy hits the ground and screams in agony, clutching his leg with a hand.
Pulling another Stone from his harness, Ryzaard rushes forward, firing a barrage of blasts at Leo like a gunslinger with laser pistols.
The thin blue light around Leo’s body begins to fade.
Ryzaard stops at Leo’s feet, towering over him, staring down, a look of pity mixed with contempt on
his face. He closes his eyes and relaxes his hold on the present moment, letting go of time.
The thump thump thump of the helicopter returns as its rotors come back to life. A hot breeze blows across Ryzaard’s forehead. “Your short life is over,” he says.
Leo opens his mouth and gasps for breath. He tries to speak, but the only sound that comes out is a dry raspy noise like sandpaper on old bones. His clothing is torn and burnt. Blood oozes from black splotches of skin across his chest and legs. Struggling to raise his head, he looks up at Ryzaard, then past him.
A faint smile spreads across Leo’s lips.
The old man slowly turns his head in the direction of the boy’s eyes.
The Monkey is crumpled at the base of the rock wall thirty feet away.
Its eyes are wide open.
The tiny figure of a little girl is kneeling in front of the massive beast, stroking its head in a gentle back and forth motion with her fingers. She whispers something to the beast that Ryzaard can’t hear.
Then he sees the monkey statue she clutches close to her chest. Bringing it forward, she drops it in the open palm of the beast’s giant hand.
The fingers of the beast’s other hand slowly uncurl from around the Stone.
“No!” Ryzaard lunges forward. A tongue of blue plasma flashes out from his Stones and imbeds itself in the chest of the Monkey. Its arms stiffen, and its eyes flutter, as if it is seeing images from the distant past. A visible wave of relaxation settles over it. The entire body slumps to the ground, a final exhale escaping from its lips as its eyelids drop down.
The Stone slips from the beast’s fingertips into the two waiting hands of the little girl.
She clutches it close to her body and stands. Her eyes move from the Monkey to Ryzaard.
Then she starts to walk toward him.
CHAPTER 123
Matt opens his eyes, and he’s back in the cathedral where he first met Jhata. He can move his body, but metal shackles and chains bind his ankles and wrists to one of the massive green pillars in the middle of the floor.
Panic rages in his mind.
How long has it been since he was pulled away by Ryzaard? Is Jessica already dead?
Soft footsteps move on the floor behind him.
“Welcome back to my sanctuary.”
“I don’t have time for this. I’ve made my choice. Now let me go. Or—” Matt pulls noisily at the chains.
“Or what?”
“The Allehonen will come and . . .”
“And what?”
“Put you in your place and take me away.”
“Let them come.” Jhata barely suppresses a laugh. “It’s clear you don’t understand how they work. You see, they have a unhealthy respect for free will. And right now, my free will is keeping you here.”
Matt’s eyes go up to the jeweled ceiling. He imagines the Woman of the Allehonen standing on the platform atop the organic spiral building in her world, eyes to the sky, hearing every word.
Help me find a way. I have to get back to Jessica. And Dad. Before it’s too late. Don’t let them die.
Feeling the weight of the Stone in his pocket, he searches for an image of his bedroom back home, closes his eyes and tries to jump away.
“They’re not listening. And even if they are, they really don’t care about you. And don’t bother with trying to leave.” Jhata moves behind the pillar and pulls on the chain around Matt’s wrists. “You can’t. Not until I say you can. So let’s make a deal. You play a little game and then, if you survive, I’ll let you go.”
“If you don’t let me go now, it might be too late. People may die.”
“Let me guess. You must be talking about that sweet girl Jessica and your dad. They seem to be all you’re thinking about. And yes, I’m a telepath that can read minds. Your problems are no concern of mine. Just play the game well.”
“What kind of game?”
Jhata walks in front of Matt. “I’d like you to show me how you fight. I have a soft spot for violence of all kinds, and I always like to see my enemies in battle. But first, we need a change of venue.”
The air around Matt blurs, and he finds himself standing in the middle of an arena that resembles the Roman Colosseum.
Jhata vanishes and reappears on a high throne at the far end. Her voice projects out so that it fills the whole interior of the arena.
“I’ve accessed your world’s Mesh and am familiar with the history of your planet.” Jhata crosses her legs. “Now and then, men and women of noble character rose from the dust of your race, unafraid to exercise power, unafraid to expand it and enjoy its fruits. Men like Vespasian, the great Roman emperor.”
“What’s your point?”
“The point? Panem et circenses. Bread and circuses. Your Romans knew about power. How to control the masses. After all, it doesn’t make sense to kill everyone. I’ve learned it’s useful to keep a few loyal subjects around so I have someone to appreciate my vast power. I’ve invited a lucky few here from around my empire for the Games.” Her eyes go down to her belt. “It’s what I do with new Stone Holders before I collect their Stones. And guess what? You’re the Game.”
Jhata opens the fingers of her right palm and stares up.
The spectator seats of the arena are filled with human men and women of every race and variety, some dressed in flowing robes, some dressed in rough furs, and some dressed in form-fitting costumes of leather and plastic. They all stand on their feet and cheer wildly. The sound is deafening.
For an instant, Matt’s clothes entirely melt away.
The crowd roars with laughter.
He looks down on his body and sees a blue dot the size of a small coin just above the sternum. He tries to flick the dot away, but he can’t even get a fingernail under it. It’s embedded in his skin.
Jhata’s voice comes into his head.
You’ll want to keep that on. It’s all you’ve got for protection. My gift to you.
He touches the dot with the tip of a finger.
An energy field flows out from the center of his chest and envelopes his body in a swirl of tingling sensations. Gooseflesh rises and hair stands on end across his back and legs. The energy resolves into a thin blue membrane, as flexible as skin, yet hard as crystal to the touch. It covers his body, from the soles of his feet, over the toes, up the legs, around the torso, down his arms, over the fingers and up the back, terminating at his neckline.
His head and face are left bare.
His Stone lies on the ground between his feet. He bends down and picks it up in his blue fingers. It falls comfortably into the palm of his hand and turns from black to light purple in seconds. He adjusts it so that he’s holding it like a dagger, point down.
Without waiting, he tries to jump away, back to Earth. Back to Jessica and his dad. Leo and Yarah.
Jhata’s voice runs through his mind.
Fight well and I’ll let you go. Fight poorly, and your Stone will end up on my belt. Just like all the others.
Not far from his foot, a rod of purple energy rises vertically from the arena floor to a height of two meters, coming to a sharp point on the end. The same lines of energy appear all over the floor of the arena, spaced two meters apart, giving it the appearance of a grid.
Anti-matter spikes. Your suit will protect you, though it will be painful. If your exposed head finds one of these, well let’s just say the explosion will take you and everyone else with it.
The crowd jumps to its feet. A chant spreads through its ranks like ripples on a lake.
They’re demanding your blood. How can I disappoint them?
A hush falls over the crowd.
Matt scans the arena floor, but there’s nothing other than him and the anti-matter spikes.
A shadow falls across his face, and he looks up, but sees nothing. The shadow on his body grows larger. He jumps to the side, but the dark spot follows him.
When he looks up again, it’s too late.
A winged creature the
size of a small dog slams into his back between his shoulder blades.
His body folds forward, and he drops to the floor and skids across its glossy surface. Intense burning cuts through his body as he slides over the anti-matter spikes. It feels like a surgical laser severing arms, legs and torso. Lying on the arena floor, he’s unable to move from the intense pain and afraid to look at what’s left of his body.
After a full minute on his belly, he casts a sideways glance at his outstretched arms, expecting to see only bloody stumps. Instead, his arms and fingers are intact, still covered with the blue film. With effort, he raises himself up to see the rest of his body. To his amazement, there are no marks, no traces of where he felt the beams cutting into his flesh.
The armor is integrated into your nervous system and shares its sense of touch. Quite clever, don’t you think?
His fingers run down the side of his thigh and dig into the blue covering. It’s as sensitive as bare skin.
A vibration on the floor jolts him to his feet. A low guttural growling causes him to whip around. The beast is standing three paces away, staring at him.
It does indeed look like a dog, or a wolf, with reddish fur on its face and belly, a boxy head and long thin legs ending in fat pads. Bat wings fold tight against its back. Flesh-like tendrils hang down from either side of its mouth like a Fu Manchu mustache. The tail is covered in metallic scales with spikes sticking out the end. Clearly a weapon.
But there is something even more incredible.
It stands with its head poised directly over one of the anti-matter spikes, its muzzle open wide, the energy beam pouring into its mouth, like it’s drinking from a straw.
A look of satisfaction spreads across its puppy-like face. Low grunts rise from its throat.
It doesn’t take long to understand. The creature is feeding. And growing larger before his eyes.
“Tell me about this thing.”
What is there to tell? It feeds on all forms of energy, matter, anti-matter. This one’s been raised on human flesh, but hasn’t had any for a while. It’s always hungry. Oh, and one other thing.
Jhata’s voice goes silent.
“What?” Matt says.
