TWO WINTERS PAST, SPRING’S HORIZON
“They lived their lives in chaos and uncertainty, until purpose found them.”
-Jan Ganefalk, Blue World
CHAPTER ONE
A loud shout of “Kiai!” broke the early morning quiet as the former cadets formed a line to meet their foes. An especially foggy and cold morning had met their wakening hours, and the four men and two women who now patrolled the loose barrier on the west side of town had heard the attackers approach. There was no doubt who the attackers were. They would, of course, be Bandits. Eric Fine’s men had taken to Manitou Springs and, for the past year and a half, harassed any person who came within their grasp. This was especially true of those who represented Red Rock Bluffs, or Council Bluffs, as most people called it.
“Form up!” called out the squad leader, Monty German. “Staff and long knife out, neutral stance!” he directed.
Without word, each member of his squad pulled the required weapon and stood calmly. These were among the warriors of the Bluffs, those who had both training and ability in martial arts. Martial arts no longer meant only foot and fist, nor did it limit itself to weapons. Now, martial arts included the power of the mind and spirit.
Out of the mists before the warriors charged four men, walking quickly. Monty looked behind them for more. The Bandits always traveled in groups of five. It was a good thing that Monty noticed, or he may not have paid any mind to the sound of foot on gravel behind him. As it was, he swirled his staff in an arc behind him.
“Circle formation.” He shouted coarsely, and his group formed a circle with their backs to one another. Monty’s staff whirled through the air and a loud snap rent the air, as it was blocked by a bat from the attacker behind him. He heard the clash of steel on steel to his left and knew the battle was on.
The thick fog hid nothing from sight any longer, as the close combat grew intense. Monty was used to close combat, even when he had been a cadet at the Air Force Academy. But since the Event, combat was different. Not only was one compelled to physically protect themselves by any means necessary, but one also had to prepare their mind to defend from psychic and mental attacks that whirled around at the same speed.
Natalee Ward had taught him well, and as he parried with his blade and swung with his staff, Monty reached out with his mind in a focused burst at the man’s head. The psychic attacks had the desired effect, and the man blinked. It was just enough for him to miss the block on the high arc of the staff. Within milliseconds, the staff cracked across the attacker’s left ear and he fell to the ground. Monty whirled his staff high, and cracked the man once more for good measure across the back of his head.
With his foe clearly unconscious, Monty turned to see one of his squad-mates defenseless on the ground and a man raising an axe high over her head to finish her off. Gathering all his mental prowess, he combined a skilled knife throw with a mental guiding push. The knife was too heavy for true effectiveness, but it was enough. The blade struck the man in his upstretched arm, slicing a deep red line before passing by into the ground beyond him. Monty leaped to run after the man, but the wound had caused him to momentarily drop the axe.
As Monty neared, the man let out a loud whistle and his friends retreated quickly into the fog. The warriors stood quietly, their breath gulped in and loudly exhaled. Monty helped his cohort up from her place on the ground.
“Thanks,” she offered. Monty just winked at her.
Turning to look for the one he had incapacitated, he caught a glimpse as the man ran off to the east. Apparently he had not been as unconscious as Monty had hoped. After a short pause, they dusted themselves off.
“Third one this week,” one of his mates mumbled.
Monty nodded. “Yeah, we better head to checkpoint for our relief. The council will want to know about the increased sorties.”
Gathering their small amount of equipment, the group marched back north.
CHAPTER TWO
Even in the cold outdoors of early spring, the smell of a cadaver was daunting. Adam tried to keep himself from laughing as his new students adjusted to the stench. Cadavers were only good for anatomy lessons, healing had to be done on living beings. This was his third term, and the first of the new year, since they had set the Hillside up as a Healing College. They did not teach during the winter, but this new class seemed promising. Eighteen of the brightest, who had been tested to show a proclivity for healing. Two of them were power healers, like his wife Erica, and three were more veterinary in their abilities. But, that left thirteen to become healers. After their training, they had agreed to work for the council for two years before they could return home to serve their own groups.
“I know the smell is bad.” Adam comforted the students. “The good news is that you can work with live people once you test out of anatomy. Now, step closer so we can talk about the muscular structure.”
Hours passed as Adam explained human anatomy to people who mostly already got it. Abilities seemed to shine in those who already had interests, passions or training in a particular area. For example, Emma’s work with plants seamlessly translated from her doctorate and life’s work in botany. Adam had been a medic in the old world (as people now called it), which picked right up in his ability to heal. The intensity of one’s abilities, or how powerful they were, was something else altogether. Jenny and Cliff were Council Bluffs’ two main researchers into the nature and use of abilities. They had deduced that power-level was something more inherent. Jenny could see the level of one’s power in their aura, but she wasn’t sure what made some people more powerful than others.
Exhausted by teaching, which was not his favorite thing, Adam walked up the road to the residences to see his wife. Erica heard him coming and waddled out to meet him, her abdomen distended by the life growing within it. She was six months pregnant now and radiant with joy, even through the difficulty of pregnancy. They were having a girl. Adam had known that much sooner than science in the old world would have told him. By the first trimester, they had named her Rose.
“Hey babe! How was class?” Erica called out across the residence area.
“The usual, teaching people who already know. How has your day been?” Kneeling down and placing one hand on each side of her belly, he spoke directly into her navel, “And how is my little Rosebud today?”
“Oh, she is kicking and active, as usual.” Erica smiled and kissed him as he stood up. “I made some stew, if you want some.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Adam put his arm around her and headed back to their rooms.
After having a bite to eat, Adam walked out and sat near the pond with Erica and looked out over the rest of the old city. Reports of crumbled buildings came in sporadically now, just as they had after the last winter. He assumed less deaths from exposure than during the first winter, since people would be more prepared. But, he had to decide which of the twenty-seven healers who had finished training he would send out on the itineracies which the council had proposed.
As if reading his mind, Erica asked, “Have you given any thought of who to send to the Bluffs for the itineracies?”
Itineracies were what the council had come up with to name the groups of four who would travel from spring through fall to aid the small communities who had cropped up wherever people had bonded together. One healer was needed for each, as well as one warrior, one empath and one kinetic. He was happy he only needed to decide on healers. Deciding which kinetic for each group was a task he did not envy. The kinetic abilities were not broad like the healers’ abilities were. Deciding whether to bring fire, earth, water, or force would be a daunting task. Empaths were difficult on the oppo
site side, often their abilities were too vague to qualify. Adam’s task was simple, pick six healers to join the itineracies, send four to bolster the healing at the bluffs, and keep the rest at the Hilltop, in case people came here for help.
Most of the council members would be joining these early itineracies, with obvious exceptions being Erica because of the pregnancy, and Ted because of his leadership at the Bluffs. They all felt strongly that this would show the community the value of this endeavor. With that, Adam could not disagree.
“I have thought about it.” Adam started, “You know I would like to go myself, but I understand why I can’t.”
Erica nodded. “Well, you want to see this little bud come to bloom, right?”
Adam smiled and gently rubbed Erica’s belly, “Yes, I do! I was thinking Jack, Gerrity, Antwon, Kelly, Fisher and maybe Jasmine? What do you think?”
Erica thought for a moment. “It’s your call, but Jack might balk at orders from anyone. You know that.”
Adam stared off into the distance. “You’re right, I know. But, he is a powerful healer. He might be the most powerful healer we have. He needs less power recuperation than others do, which would really help in the field. He seems best suited for this task.”
Erica didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to; Adam had already thought her concerns through on his own. They sat for a while in peaceful silence until the breeze started to pick up, and it got too cold. Adam would let the healers know in the morning who was going and they would leave immediately.
CHAPTER THREE
Steph moved through the high brush slowly, not looking forward to what she would find. They had heard the screams the night before and smelled the smoke. It had become a too common occurrence over the last few months. There was still a pillar of latent smoke rising into the sky up ahead. She shuddered at the thought.
A crackle of a boot on dry grass startled her and she looked up to see her husband, Bill, walking in from another direction. He gave her a look that said, we will do this together and joined her before they moved on. Taking his hand in hers, she settled her resolve and moved into the clearing. A platform and spire had burned to the ground, just like the others she had seen. This one was worse. Two charred and dangling corpses were still propped against the pole on which they had been burned. The platform beneath them had burned with the straw and branches which had been used as kindling, but the pole remained.
The tears welled up inside her and cascaded down her cheeks. These two could only be The Carruthers boys from their nearby farm. They had been sixteen and fourteen. Rumor had it they had dabbled in the forbidden arts in order to heat their home and feed their family.
“Let’s cut them down and bury them, honey.” Bill said as he moved forward.
Something moved to her right, in the direction of the mostly frozen stream bed. Fearing a return of the people who did this, Steph held her hand out and stopped her husband. They both remained perfectly still. Out of the brush came a modern legend.
Long, dirty hair hanging in his face, and a beard that reached half down his chest, a man stepped into the clearing facing them. He was called by many names, and talked about in hushed tones all over the old city, or that is what she had been told. She had assumed he was a bogeyman, a fiction created to keep people in line. As soon as she saw him, she knew she was wrong. He emanated the power and calmness of which she had heard. His hoodie pulled up and his dark sunglasses in place, she could not see if his eyes glowed the way people described, but she knew who she was seeing. It was the one they called the Wanderer, the Traveler, or just the Hermit.
Bill and Steph Richards stood still as statues as he walked toward them and turned to survey the execution site. In other parts of the city, she heard they thought of him as a hero. But out here where the faithful resided, he was thought of as the harbinger of doom, the minion of the Adversary. He was a known powerful mystic, and a top priority target for those of the Faith. The Richards’ did nothing as he walked around the burn site, stopping to consider the two boys’ corpses. Without a word or a look, he then moved on. He disappeared into the brush, just as he had come.
Bill looked into his wife’s eyes, “Was that…?”
Steph nodded, “I think so. Let’s forget it and just do what we came here to do.”
Bill didn’t need a second word on that idea and immediately went to clearing the charred wood so he could get to the corpses. Steph prayed quietly for the boys, before she also went to help him. This task would take time.
CHAPTER FOUR
As the people bustled about, setting up the day’s market, Minister Silvio “Sal” Martino went from stall to stall to see if he could lend a hand to anyone. He passed out food to those who had nothing to trade, blankets from the chapel to those who were cold, and words of comfort to those who needed them. These “survivors’ markets” had popped up across the city last spring and summer, but from all he had heard, they were even more prevalent now. They showed a society trying to rebuild. Small groups coming together for protection and companionship. Sal wasn’t positive that this was a good thing.
The early morning icicles dripped cold water on the pavement in this former parking lot, and Sal thought back on two winters without power. He thought on the devastation it had caused and how many people had died without protection from the cold. Colorado Springs and the surrounding area had been a mid-sized city of around four hundred and twenty thousand souls before this all started. Most people he knew assumed that number to be less than fifty thousand now. Sal shook his head as he thought about it. It wasn’t how he thought the end times would happen, not how all of the books laid it out, but it was definitely the end times.
“Father Sal?” a voice called out from one of the stalls. People often called him Father, but he did not prefer it. It was mostly a misunderstanding since all of the Faith wore the collars that had been common to those of the Catholic or Episcopalian priests prior to the end.
“It is just minister, friend, how can I be of service?” he replied.
A young man stood next to a young woman clearly in the late stages of pregnancy, both of them bundled into heavy coats. The scarves wrapped around their faces were not enough to hide the red nose and cheeks gained from exposure to the pre-dawn chill on their way here.
“Could you pray for my sister?” The young man said.
“Have you prayed for her?” Sal asked, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “God hears you just as easily as he hears me.” The young man stuttered out a response and Sal just smiled and put his other hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Come, let us pray for her together.”
Sal led the brother and sister through his usual prayer for providence, finishing as he always did, with a prayer to keep the Adversary’s minions and their heathen magic at bay. As he opened his eyes, he saw fear on the girl’s face.
People had gathered around during the prayer, but Sal spoke directly to the young pregnant woman. “I can see that the vile magic has touched you. Do you exhibit any of the signs of possession?”
The girl looked over at her brother, who had clearly brought her for more than prayer.
“Minister,” the boy began, “my sister does not dabble with the dark abilities. But the boy who got her knocked up, he was a witch of the worst kind. He tricked her.”
Sal turned back to the girl, “Is this true?” A murmur went through the crowd.
The girl looked at the ground for a while, then Sal lifted her head up so he could look in her eyes. She nodded and immediately looked back at the ground.
“What is this boy’s name?” Sal queried.
“F-f-frank,” the girl slowly stuttered out, “Frank Keller.”
Sal relaxed. “Frank Keller is no longer a problem. He has been cleansed of his demons.”
The small crowd erupted in a cheer, praising God for this. Sal continued, “But, it is a lesson my friends.” He addressed the full crowd now. “You see what the Adversary will do when we do not prot
ect ourselves from his wiles? This woman did nothing wrong, the Keller boy was a neighbor, she knew him. But those who have given themselves over to the Adversary are no longer our friends, no longer our relatives. They are now the demon that lives within them. Make no mistake, friends. We are in the final battle of mankind and we must choose sides. We are either on the side of the demon, or on the side of the Lord. There can be no two ways about it.”
The crowd cheered. The shouted “Amen” peppering his speech. When they had hushed down, Sal continued. “The Lord’s Hammer is our gift, the last weapon against the Adversary’s power. Keep vigilant. And young lady,” he finished toward the young woman,” bring that child to the chapel when it is born so we may be sure the taint of the Evil One is not on it.”
With tears rolling down her cheeks, she smiled a sheepish smile, agreeing to this order. Sal continued his work of good deeds, handing out food and clothing. There were no dissenters this day, that was a good thing. Perhaps the Lord, and his faithful, were already winning the battle.
CHAPTER FIVE
The chill of the morning air made Ted Craven stomp his feet and rub his arms for warmth. Spring had sprung, as they say, but in Colorado, spring mornings were still very cold. Grabbing a “fire stone”, he started up the fire pit in the center of the Council chamber. He was always the first one there, but the others would be along shortly. The post-dawn light poured in from the rising sun off the eastern plains. Ted stared out across the old city, even from this vantage point, he could see nature retaking its own.
Over the last year and a half, the elements had corroded and eroded many of the signs of technological advance for which the old world was most noted. People had died in droves, through the elements or the bad actions of others. Eric Fine’s Bandits still sealed off Manitou Springs and the passage up into the mountains. Tales of “Survivors’ Camps” were common, as were the tales of their markets that popped up for commerce wherever groups of people could safely congregate. Had it not been his job to do so, Ted would prefer not to think about the big picture. As it was, he could see the world devolving into a sort of dark age of superstition and fear. Had someone asked him two years before, he would not have thought it possible.
Fear of Mystics (Saga of Mystics Book 2) Page 1
