by Jacob Whaler
A pulsating bubble of blue energy envelops Ryzaard. “I’ll have to take that chance.” An audible humming surrounds him as he stares at the numbers on the jax, internalizing them. “One other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s time to start the operation we discussed.”
“Cry of Freedom?”
“Yes. Tell Alexa. She has all the details and full authority to launch the first wave. I’ll expect a report when I return.” Ryzaard relaxes into the numbers on his jax.
His eyes meet the man and woman just as the air flashes white.
CHAPTER 74
The sound of surf lapping at the sand wakes Matt up.
Yarah lies on the beach beside him, her small body curled up in a tight ball with her head thrown back, as if trying to simultaneously escape from and hide within herself.
Noticing he is still blue from head to toe, he reaches under his shirt and touches the spot on his chest just above the sternum. The armor fades from his skin.
He stands and stretches. The edge of the water draws him to the spot where the white foam tongue of the ocean rolls up and licks at his feet. Only a slice of the orange sun remains above the watery horizon. As he watches, it shrinks until it vanishes.
And then it hits him.
Leo is dead.
The last image of Leo lying on the floor forces its way into Matt’s mind. Stomach churning, he bends over and retches onto the sand. How had it all happened? What could he have done to save Leo, the boy who became like a son?
Never leave the children alone.
That was his first mistake, underestimating the danger constantly facing all of them. Leaving Leo and Yarah alone so he and Jessica could return to Earth.
That’s how Jhata found them.
No place is safe. Sticking together is the only protection. Even that has no guarantee.
What about Jessica?
After all they’ve been through together, after all the promises he made to her, in the heat of the moment, he still left her alone.
He had no choice.
No, that’s a lie. He had a choice. Protect Jessica or protect hundreds of innocent people about to die. He chose the latter.
And failed.
What if she never made it out of the freedom camp? Ryzaard knew she was there. He would have ordered her death. With only a pulse rifle, what could she do against the weapons of the massive heli-transports and a hundred soldiers in battle gear?
Matt drops his head into his hands.
“We have to go after her.” Yarah walks to Matt’s side. She reaches out her hand and takes his.
Together, they sit on the sand and watch the pink sky slowly fade to purple and then black. As the minutes go by, Matt stares at the sea. A tidal wave of emotion looms in his mind, raw and unrelenting. It rises and presses on him as though hanging in the air just above his head.
And then it breaks loose.
Leo is dead.
He was just a boy. Years of life ahead. A gentle heart, only wanting to help and heal others. Unwilling to kill. Innocent. Perfect. Sacrificed himself to save me and Yarah. How did it all happen? What should I have done?
I left Leo and Yarah alone!
I should have stayed with them. They trusted me. Looked to me as a father. Begged me not to go. I could have protected them.
Too reckless. Always too reckless.
People suffer and die because of my decisions.
If only I could go back and do it all over again.
Dad is dead. Mom is dead. Leo, Little John, Jake.
Jessica!
My fault. All of it my fault.
Matt realizes he’s lying face-down in the sand, gut wrenching, hardly able to breath. Sobbing with abandon.
A hand brushes his cheek.
Yarah stares at Matt, a thin line of tears streaming out of the corner of her eye. “But it’s not your fault.” Her gaze drops to the sand. “I asked Jhata to come. I thought she was good.” Yarah tries hard to smile, but her chin is trembling uncontrollably. “Just before we left Leo and jumped away from Jhata, he said something to me. In my mind.”
Matt stays silent, looking at the sand. Hot tears well up. A thick lump of emotion and regret lodges in his throat. He tries in vain to swallow it.
Yarah comes closer and whispers in his ear. “Tell Matt it’s OK. That’s what Leo said.”
Tremors of untapped emotion erupt from deep inside Matt. Sitting up, he wraps his arms on his legs in a tight ball, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to hold it back.
But he can’t.
It bursts out. His body convulses and heaves. As he struggles to hold back a wave of despair, words pour out between sobs.
“So sorry . . . never leave you again . . . find Jessica.”
Yarah gets up on her knees, stretches her thin arms up to Matt, lays her head on his shoulder and pulls him close as they both cry.
The surf comes up and engulfs them, washing away the tears dripping to the sand.
CHAPTER 75
For the first time since she was a child, Jhata aches all over. She raises herself up to a sitting position. The remains of Leo lie a meter away, his leg still stretched out where she grasped his ankle in the seconds before his death.
From head to foot, his body has burst open like an empty cocoon from which his soul is finally set free.
She holds still, opening all her senses to the subtle energy fields dancing nearby, trying to get a sense of the direction Matt and Yarah have taken in their escape. But too much time has passed. The trail is cold.
They would be fools to return to their home planet of Earth. The man named Ryzaard has progressed enough to track anyone with a Stone. But Jessica is still on Earth. Sooner or later, Matt’s longing for her will compel him to return and search.
That is the downside of love.
It forces you to put the welfare of others before your own. The opposite of freedom.
And what about Yarah?
Given what she was able to accomplish in their last encounter, the little girl is far more talented than Jhata could have imagined. And far more dangerous.
With difficulty, Jhata stands to her feet. Automatic internal healing processes are already at work, repairing damage that would have killed any ordinary human. She left that stage of existence behind long ago with all the upgrades to her physiology. But there are limits beyond which even she cannot repair herself. In her weakened condition, Leo had come close to inflicting such damage on her.
That is the only reason Matt and Yarah were able to jump away.
She kneels beside what remains of him. A bloody hand still grasps the Stone that is now dark and cold. With familiar relish, she stretches out her fingers to its surface, closes her eyes and opens all her senses as the Stone comes alive at her touch.
Standing up more firmly now, she drops it into an empty silver loop on her belt, not bothering to wipe off the blood.
Yellow energy shoots from an idle finger pointing at the body. It glows a golden color and disintegrates, leaving behind only a faint afterimage that fades to ash.
Jhata walks fifty meters across the middle of the room to an outlying point of light floating at eye level. When she touches it, the star increases to the size of her head. A small dot the color of light blue hangs a couple of feet away.
Earth.
She stares at it. Bringing her finger close to its mother star, the pull of vengeance is strong. Billions of innocent inhabitants cry out for mercy, increasing the temptation to silence them. Matt will lose his beloved Jessica. Both he and Yarah will lose their home planet and be forever castaways among the stars. But she withdraws her finger. The time is not yet.
But it will surely come.
CHAPTER 76
“Aanak told me Matt would come.” Jessica stares out through the thick windows of the sub at a sea of black. Now and then sparks of light, like stars in a night sky, appear in the empty void. “She said she had seen it and not to be afraid.”
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Eve drops a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Looking back on it, she had a gift like Little John’s. She could see things.”
“What kind of things?”
“The whole village depended on her. She knew when to launch the hunting parties, where to find the few whales left. When the storms would come.” Eva drops her gaze to the floor of the ship. “We just thought she was old and wise. But if she said that Matt will come back, she must have seen that, too. I never heard her say anything that didn’t happen. No doubt about it. He will.”
Closing her eyes, Jessica tries to let the assurance of Eva’s words flow through her and calm her fears. “How did she keep her Stone hidden from you for all these years?” She leans back against the seat. It’s dark on the bridge of the sub. A good place to sleep.
Eva shakes her head. “I have no idea.”
“Too bad Ryzaard got her Stone.”
“Maybe it’s better we don’t have it.” Eva reaches out for a cracker and brings it to her lips. “He would have pursued us relentlessly until he killed us and got it. Maybe now we’re off the radar, and he’ll let us alone. At least for a while. Until Matt finds us.”
Saying nothing, Jessica fingers the walrus tooth on the silver chain on her neck. Her thoughts are drawn to Matt. The image of him on the ground with Ryzaard towering over him, from a recent dream, still burns in her retinas. Her body goes tense.
“Don’t worry. Believe in Aanak and what she saw. Matt will be OK.” Eva reaches a hand across the space between them and rests it on Jessica’s. “Aanak said he’d become our new leader. He’ll find his way back. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Time.” Jessica hates the bitter taste of the word in her mouth. “Time can be so cruel. It binds us together, and then tears us apart.”
“And it will mercifully end someday.” Eva brings another cracker to her mouth. “For all of us. Then we’ll be back together with the ones we love.”
Jessica lifts her head off the back of the chair. “Is there someone you love out there?” She reaches into the box in front and grabs a cracker.
“There was. He died when I was young. Whaling accident.”
“I’m sorry,” Jessica says.
Eva flips a switch on the ceiling. “Don’t be. We had a wonderful time together. Short, but wonderful.” The exterior floodlights come on, and the darkness outside suddenly comes alive with swarms of fluorescent plankton, like swirling galaxies in deep space. “Someday, I’ll be with him. Until then—”
The door to the bridge flies open. An out-of-breath captain comes in, followed by three more of the crew. Each of them drops into their chairs. The captain reaches up and flips off the floodlights. A black box with green and red dials drops from his hands to the floor beside him.
Jessica recognizes it as the radio Aanak operated back in the village.
“Listen to this.” The captain turns a dial on the box, increasing the volume.
Scattered fragments of voices interweave and interrupt each other, each of them speaking in panicked tones.
Jessica listens hard, trying to tease out individual strands of dialogue.
“Black ships dropping from the sky.”
“Laser cannons raining fire on our heads. Massive casualties. No warning.”
“Combat troops surrounding the camp, moving toward the center. Women and children lying everywhere.”
“All escape routes cut off. Camp leaders went forward, begging for mercy. All cut down. Rivers of blood.”
“Abomination.”
The captain bends forward, face dropping into hands. “It’s started. Just as Aanak saw. At least six freedom camps under full assault. Four of them on the West Coast of the U.S. One in Mexico. One in Hawaii. Who knows what’s happening in the rest of the world?”
The crew sits in stunned silence. All eyes turn to Jessica.
“Is it time?” The captain says.
CHAPTER 77
It’s different this time.
Ryzaard opens his eyes in total darkness. The air is fetid and moist. A tiny light hanging from a cord on his neck switches on automatically, casting its glow in a small circle.
The Stone he is hunting, and whoever is controlling it, should be five meters directly in front of his face. Silently placing the green ball on the floor, he nudges it with his foot and rolls it forward into the blackness.
A few seconds pass before it comes rolling back out of the darkness and bumps into the toe of his shoe.
“I’m afraid your death machine won’t work in here.”
The voice sounds like a hundred people speaking at once and comes from every direction. Ryzaard notices that his protective bubble is gone, making him completely exposed to whatever might come at him from out of the darkness. Quickly bending, he picks up the globe and closes his eyes, concentrating on the Stones.
But they are distant and useless.
That’s when he notices they’re all gone.
“Six of Eleven. Never before have so many Stones from this world been collected by one Holder.” The voices are neither male nor female, but filled with weight, as if they’ve been deep in the rock since the beginning of time, watching and waiting. “You’ve come here to make it Seven.”
Ryzaard steps forward, extending the light. “Are you the Oracle?”
“Some have called me that. For obvious reasons.”
“Show yourself.”
“I decline.”
“Then return my Stones.”
Gentle laughter floats through the chamber. “You are in no position to demand anything.”
Ryzaard reaches into the pocket of his tweed jacket and pulls out a dagger. With the blade held high, he rushes into the nothingness in front of him.
And finds more nothing.
“What do you want?” Ryzaard swings, knife in hand, listening for any clue that might betray the location of the voices. In spite of the cool air, sweat beads up on his forehead and runs into his eyes.
“Calm down. Be still.” A single voice comes from behind him. “It’s not in my nature to cause harm. Or receive it. I simply watch and wait. You are a man of violence. Death follows wherever you go.”
Ryzaard stands still, chest heaving. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The voice is silent. A cloud of sweet aroma drifts by Ryzaard. For a brief moment, it replaces the stench of putrefying flesh that hangs in the air and calms him.
“I know what the Stones say.”
“How?” Ryzaard searches again for the source of the voice, slowly walking in a circle and seeing nothing but blackness.
“Every Stone keeps a record of its Holder. Nothing is lost. I simply read it. See it. No mystery to it.” The voice trails off.
Reaching out with his mind, Ryzaard tries again to divine the location of his Stones. But it’s as if they no longer exist. An idea comes to his mind. He tries to jump a short distance to another location within the cavern.
Nothing happens.
“Relax,” the voice says. “Sit. Let us talk.”
Laying the dagger on the floor within easy reach on his right side, and the empty green globe on his left, Ryzaard drops into a lotus position, his hands folded in front of him.
“What do the Stones tell you?” he says.
“Six people died that you might possess them. A young healer. A holy man who lived among the poor. A priest who embraced the hope that peace and harmony would cover the earth. A visionary whom you tortured sorely. A glutton and a murderer. A doctor for sick children. And most recently, only a few days ago, an old woman who watched over her people.” The voice stops.
Inhaling another scent of sweet smells, Ryzaard lowers his voice to a whisper. “I don’t enjoy killing, but—”
“You do this so you can build a new world, one free from suffering and pain.” The voice sounds almost sympathetic.
Ryzaard is taken aback. “Yes.” He turns his head in the direction of the sound of dry skin sliding over smooth rock.
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bsp; “You think it important enough to kill for.”
“No price is too heavy to pay.” Ryzaard fingers the blade on his right and then pulls his hand away. “The Stones are a gift to the human race, the only path leading to peace.”
The sliding sound moves behind Ryzaard.
“This world has always been sick. That is why I and others like me have withdrawn. Many Holders of the Stones have burned with the same vision you have, the same confidence you display.” A touch of melancholy enters the voice. “They have tried, by force and through love, to bring Paradise to the earth. All have failed.”
“I will not fail.”
The voice breathes in and exhales. “You speak the same words as the others. None intend to fail. But the path is hard and requires a sacrifice few can make. Those who seek for power and glory will fail. Only one willing to lay all upon the altar and receive nothing in return can succeed. Are you that person?”
“The Oracle of ancient times had the gift of foresight. Many came to this temple seeking knowledge.” It’s time for Ryzaard to push back. “Do you also have this gift?”
“I have the same gift, and the same Stone, as those who have gone before.”
His heart racing, Ryzaard leans forward. “Then tell me, Oracle. What does your foresight tell you? Will I succeed?”
More sweet odors blow through the cavern, giving short relief from the stifling stench.
“Since ancient times, we have known the old world will pass away. All things will become new. Suffering will end. Peace will come.” The voice exhales. “But the time of its coming, and the one that will bring it, is hidden from our eyes.”
“Then you do not know that I will fail.” Ryzaard fingers the empty globe on his left and lets his gaze drop to the smooth floor. “You said it yourself. None have come to you before with so many Stones, with such promise of success.”
“But you are not alone.”
Ryzaard’s body tenses as his glance shoots up. “What do you mean?”
