The Maiden Medallions: Beastkeeper

by Edward Shawn

  “Can I make you something to eat?” Kay asked her grandfather as she unlocked her embrace. “We have some fish and rice, there’s corn...”

  Kay looked at James. “How about you? Are you hungry?”

  James gazed into her big brown eyes and almost forgot to reply. After a brief moment of silence, he found an answer. “Yes.”

  She smiled, pleased by his response. “I’ll call for you both when supper is prepared.”

  James watched her leave, taking with her some of the tightness lodged in his chest. Glancing around for Micah, he found the tall man staring at him.

  “Just remember why we are here,” he said in a serious tone. “We have a lot of work to do and you cannot afford to be distracted. Come, we have things to discuss before we eat.” Heading for the stairs, he beckoned James to follow.

  Candle lamps embedded into the wall lighted the way as they headed up the creaking stairs. Micah entered a small, dimly lit room at the end of the hall. Two flickering candles on top of a wardrobe looked close to going out. Reaching into the pouch hanging at his side, he tossed a powder onto the flames. The candles flared pushing the darkness back into the corners. Sitting down on a black, bearskin rug covering most of the floor, Micah crossed his legs, then brought his hands together in his lap. James sat opposite him on the carpeting.

  “I’ve taken steps to find out what happened to our friends at the camp,” Micah said. “It shouldn’t be more than a day until we get some news.”

  James nodded, then gazed at the floor. The shaman’s words brought reality crashing in on him like a storm surge. All the peace and tranquility he felt since arriving in Nilvanya was nothing but a mirage. James was ashamed for feeling so good and for momentarily forgetting the plight his faithful dog and the man called Falconer were left behind in.

  Micah kept silent for several moments. James was sure he purposely stated this to remind him of the seriousness of what was happening and what was yet to come.

  “Do you remember the story I told you earlier about the medallions and their creation?”

  “Yes,” James replied.

  “You understand it wasn’t a coincidence that you came across one?”

  “It has to do with my ancestry, that’s why I have it.”

  “The same blood flows through you–the same traits that were present during their creation centuries ago are within you.”

  James stood back up. He was feeling uncomfortable on the floor and wanted to move around, though, what he really wanted was to run away and leave all this behind. Now that he had taken the first steps along the path of his new life, he wanted nothing more than to see his parents, to see his friends again. He wanted his old life back; he just didn’t know how to go about getting it.

  Reaching into his pocket, James extracted the medallion. “Do you want it, Micah? I’ll give it to you if you want.”

  Micah got up from the floor. “I know you feel burdened by expectations, but the medallion is utterly useless if another possessed it. Sure, I could access its most basic properties–most anyone could with a little effort and understanding. But only you, my young friend, only you can truly master it.”

  “But why? Why do I need to?”

  “Because if you don’t, the woman at the camp and the forces she represents will take it from you and everything you know and everyone you love could be lost.”

  “I could leave it here. She can’t get it then,” James said.

  “Search your heart. Do you honestly believe that is the correct path? Leaving it here will not help you when you return home. They know who you are now. Do you have the strength to stand up to them without the power of the medallion?”

  James shook his head. He knew there was no way to return to his old life, not after everything he’d been through these last few days. What he once considered an adventure had turned into something far more sinister. Friends may have been hurt, or worse, just getting him to this point. For some reason, everyone thought he was the key to resolving all of their woes. But he knew better. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the circular piece of wood he carried.

  “What should I do?”

  “You should start believing in yourself.” Micah placed an arm around James’s slumped shoulders. “Tomorrow at first light, we’ll start your training. But for now, why don’t we go check on supper?”

  26

  Falconer gripped the cold metal railing as he gazed out at the twinkling lights of downtown Seattle. He always enjoyed the view from his penthouse balcony; it helped clear his mind and buoy his spirit. The way he felt right now, he could be outside for a while. Sipping some of the bitter tea he prepared after spending the day in restless sleep, he welcomed the breeze accompanying the descending night.

  Galen left hours ago with a promise to return as soon as possible. Falconer was starting to understand why Micah trusted the enigmatic old man. Before leaving the campsite, Galen had produced a vial of ointment from his straw hat. Applying some of the contents to Falconer’s torn lip and swollen thumb, it immediately numbed the pain. By the time they arrived in Seattle hours later, his injuries were healed, the swelling all but gone away. Without Galen’s help, he wouldn’t be at home staring over the cityscape in search of solace in the lights. He may not have owed Galen his life, but he owed him a great deal just the same.

  He was alone now, one of the last obstacles standing in the way of the unknown forces seeking the medallions. He had fought the woman but the enemy was more than just her. Micah told him their rival was vast with access to resources far beyond them. There was little reason to doubt his mentor’s words.

  Only days ago, Falconer visited the temple and spoke with the Spirit Guardian on Micah’s behalf. The Guardian had permitted him entry into the room where the Spirit Maiden slumbered. Falconer understood if she was to awaken, the reckoning would begin and the world may not survive her judgment, especially if their enemies possessed enough medallions to manipulate her into reshaping the world to fit their ideals. He knew other medallions existed besides his and the one James carried, though, where they were was another matter entirely. He prayed their locations were a mystery to the enemy as well.

  Finishing his tea, he returned to watching the shimmering lights of the city he loved. Living in Seattle for almost a decade, he worked at establishing his business while quietly doing his part in making the city a little safer whenever possible.

  In his youth, he listened to the tales from both his father and grandfather but didn’t necessarily believe them. Hearing stories of ancient magic stored within receptacles of power and of the goddess who demanded their creation, he couldn’t help being anything but skeptical. It was easier to dismiss the stories as the ramblings of those living in the past than to give them any credence.

  After the medallion became his and he realized the error of his thinking, he then presumed the task of safeguarding the world would fall upon the shoulders of someone from a future generation, perhaps an offspring or even beyond that. He always thought he would die of old age before the hunt for the medallions became necessary. He believed he wouldn’t live to see the Spirit Maiden rise.

  Losing Riff, his partner and friend, couldn’t have come at a worse time. If he was expected to battle against those searching for the medallions, losing his partner so early in the fight severely limited his effectiveness.

  Riff was with him for close to five years. They traveled throughout the world putting on a show that thrilled the crowds gathering to watch the exploits of the man and his diverse flock of highly trained birds. The inseparable pair explored the planet together, and during the quiet moments between events, they often helped those in need. Stopping an assault here or a mugger there helped alleviate some of the restlessness Falconer felt when confined to nondescript hotel rooms during his travels. He hardly ever enjoyed being cooped up inside four walls. Being up high in the sky, that felt more like home.

  Gathering up the tea cup, he left the balcony and wandere
d into the kitchen of the extravagant penthouse, one of only four on the entire floor. He could afford such things due to the success of his show which had everything to do with the medallion attached to the heavy chain around his neck. It was included in the inheritance left by his father along with enough money to live comfortably. As he mastered the abilities the medallion granted, the idea for his show started taking shape.

  Being an only child, the task of keeping the medallion fell to him after his father’s passing. But he never took the responsibility all that seriously; they were just stories told to him as a youth. As his grandfather instructed him in the ways of the medallion and he realized it held power beyond his comprehension, it dawned on him that if one side of the equation was real–if the medallion contained great power–couldn’t the other side of the equation also be true? Couldn’t the stories be genuine as well?

  But he remained unconvinced, that is, until Micah came into his life. His grandfather had introduced them when he couldn’t help him progress any further. How they knew each other was never explained in detail. Micah helped Falconer push through the final phase of his training and conquer the fear blocking his way to attaining complete mastery over the powerful artifact. During the time they spent together, Falconer came to trust the shaman. If Micah believed the old stories, he also found some truth in the tales heard as a child.

  Placing the cup inside a stainless steel dishwasher, he flicked off the kitchen light before heading for the back of the condo. He had converted one of the extra bedrooms into an aviary. Having replaced part of the bedroom window with a two-way swinging hatch, it provided Riff and her offspring with a route in and out of the room. He provided a home for his friend, but in no way would it double as a cage.

  Unlocking the door, he entered the room and gazed at the large wire mesh and wooden enclosure extending to the ceiling. The single tree his former partner nested in stood quiet and alone. The hatchway his raptors used opened and a falcon poked its head in. Pushing its way through, the falcon landed on a branch, then screeched loudly. Turning its head from side to side, it flapped its wings before settling down. Talon, Riff’s only son, had returned home from his nightly hunt.

  Falconer looked up at the young falcon sitting quietly. “Hello, Talon. How was the hunt?”

  The bird nodded before turning his attention to his wings.

  “I have some bad news,” Falconer said as he brushed his fingertips along the wire mesh of the aviary. “Your mother and I got caught up in something, some bad business we had to deal with.”

  Leaving the branch, Talon landed on the floor covered in wood chips and soil.

  “I’m sorry, so very sorry...”

  Flying to the doorway, the falcon stopped on the ledge. Looking back at Falconer, he cried out softly, then nudged the hatch open and flew out into the night.

  Falconer didn’t have to finish what he wanted to convey to the young Peregrine Falcon; Talon understood the meaning behind his words.

  ***

  “Come in,” Jeremiah ordered as someone knocked on the door to his private office. Pressing a button beneath his desk, the lock on the heavy wooden doors unfastened and granted the visitor entry.

  Carl poked his head in, then stepped inside

  “Care for a drink?” Jeremiah asked.

  “After that flight, I could really do with one,” Carl replied, heading for the liquor cabinet. “You want anything?”

  “No, no thanks. Congratulations on the success of your mission, to you and your team.”

  “Thanks, but there wasn’t much to it.”

  Jeremiah smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. But still, it’s good to know the people who work for me will carry out their assignments, even if they’re...objectionable.”

  Carl sat down on the black leather recliner on the opposite side of the desk. Taking a mouthful of his drink, he grimaced, then swallowed it down. Easing back into the comfortable chair, he dangled the glass in his right hand while looking across the desk at Jeremiah.

  “My men are professionals. They get paid to do a job and regardless of any objections, they’ll carry out their orders.” He raised the glass to his lips.

  “As I have come to expect,” Jeremiah said.

  “Evelynn and the others back?”

  “Yes, they arrived during the afternoon.”

  “How did it go? Was she successful?” Carl asked, setting the empty glass on the desk.

  “I’m afraid not, but all is not lost. You were.” Jeremiah leaned back in his chair. “Is the package being stored away?”

  “I’ve already taken care of that bit of business.”

  “Good. Keep one of your men posted at all times. Omega Team will be handling all aspects of this detail. None of the estate’s security will be involved in any way.”

  The head of security nodded, then started to rise, but Jeremiah held up his hand and motioned for him to sit back down. “You’ve demonstrated a great deal of patience. You haven’t pried and you haven’t pestered me with questions. If you have any, now is a good time to ask.”

  Carl leaned forward in his chair. “I do have questions but I’ll start with the basics. What are you up to, Jeremiah? It’s obvious you’re planning something and my gut tells me it’s not going to be pretty.”

  “I’m preparing for war,” Jeremiah said.

  “Excuse me? Since when are we in the war business? Did you suddenly become a politician?”

  Jeremiah chuckled. “I’m not speaking of a war between nations. I’m talking about a war for the very soul of the world.”

  Smirking, Carl grabbed his glass off the desk. Getting up, he returned to the liquor cabinet. “From what I’ve seen, I didn’t think this world even had a soul.” Pouring more scotch into his glass, he drank back some of the contents before returning to his seat.

  Opening up a drawer, Jeremiah pulled out a file folder and dropped it on the desk.

  “What’s this?” Carl asked.

  “Some of my notes–information I’ve gathered over the last year or so. Go on, take a look.”

  Reaching into his suit, Carl removed his eyeglasses from his shirt pocket before opening up the file. The first item he saw was a picture of the medallion. “It’s the artifact the archaeologist recovered.”

  “It is.”

  Sifting through more documents, he glanced over some images of various reptiles. “Is there some connection between the medallion and these animals?”

  “Very good,” Jeremiah said with a smile.

  Closing the folder, he slid it back across the table. “Okay, I’m intrigued. What’s the next step of your plan?”

  Jeremiah pulled the folder closer to him. “These medallions contain immense power. Unfortunately, not all of us are able to wield it, to tap the entire spectrum of power each contains.”

  Carl remained silent for a moment. “How many medallions are there?”

  “I’m unsure of that. We know of at least four.”

  “Four? You have one–Evelynn went after another in Canada.”

  “We’re searching for one in the Amazon,” Jeremiah said.

  “Okay. And the fourth?”

  “Owned by a man that prevented Evey from completing her mission.”

  “Really? Who is he?”

  Jeremiah could see Carl becoming completely involved with what he was learning. “I don’t know as of yet, but I have people working on discovering his identity. It’s only a matter of time now.”

  “And the package? What is that about?”

  “As I said, I’m preparing for war. The package you brought in will be my very first soldier.”

  ***

  Evelynn scanned the Seattle Times article on display in her browser. A small story from a couple of years back, it regarded a man claiming he was saved from a vicious beating by a man that could fly. The article also noted his savior being accompanied by some type of predatory bird. After searching the Internet for flying men, it was the second such story she came across descr
ibing the heroics of a man defying gravity. Both incidents took place in the Seattle area, and even though there was some question concerning the validity of the stories, Evelynn believed they were true. It was a good place to start her search for the flying man; she couldn’t dismiss the fairly close proximity between Seattle and the town of Charmington.

  Her phone lit up. Answering it, she accepted the invitation Sandra extended to join her and Orion on a morning walk around the grounds. Slipping on her running shoes, Evelynn left her sunlit bedroom. She found it mildly surprising Sandra invited her to come along. Perhaps their relationship was thawing out because of the mission they shared.

  Exiting through the sliding glass doors, Sandra was already waiting at the top of the marble steps leading from the courtyard. Orion lay at her feet but immediately got up as Evelynn approached.

  “He’s happy to see you,” Sandra said.

  Evelynn patted the black dog on the head. Orion, as she had come to expect, remained silent although his tail did sway back and forth. “I’ll assume the entity, spirit or whatever, it’s still inside of him?”

  Sandra nodded before descending the stairs. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere. I think we’re beyond the point of being able to separate them.”

  Following one of the wide concrete paths, the two women strolled by the tennis courts. Passing the Gardens Cafe, they headed towards the part of the estate where it was mostly grass with a scattering of Guava and Palm trees.

  “Have you decided to keep him?” Evelynn asked.

  Unfastening the dog collar, Sandra let Orion go in search of a suitable tree. “That’s up to Jeremiah. I’m looking after him for now, but I’m not sure if Orion can even be considered a pet. He’s more than just a dog...” Sandra touched Evelynn’s elbow. “I can hear him in my mind.”

  Evelynn stared at her. The merging process would have changed Orion, and perhaps even improved him in some ways. After the strange events in the Pacific Northwest, Evelynn could hardly call Sandra a liar.