The Source- Origins

by A J Witt

  “Are you crazy?” Sabine interjected. “There’s no way I’m going in there.”

  “Have it your way,” replied Edvon, squeezing his large frame through the hatch and positioning himself onto the platform. “Lower me.”

  Kyran untied the rope and carefully let it glide between his hands until Edvon hit the bottom. He pulled the platform back up and turned to Sabine, but she shook her head.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I’m not leaving you here.”

  Sabine looked at him with wide-eyed apprehension.

  “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

  The young woman slid through the hatch, and as Kyran monitored her, he felt a funny feeling wash over him. Seconds later, a knock on the shaft signaled Sabine had safely reached the base. When Kyran pulled up the platform one last time, the door sprang open, and a group of Overseers stormed in.

  “They’re here!” one of them yelled.

  Kyran scrambled through the hatch and onto the platform, bringing the loose end of the rope with him. Straining to prevent his weight from pulling him down too fast, he looked up to see an Overseer glaring at him from above. The man grabbed the rope, yanking it toward him and stopping the Adept’s descent before he could exit the shaft. Closing his eyes, Kyran let go of his grip.

  “Ah!” The Overseer screamed as the weight pulled the rope through his hand, the friction burning his skin raw.

  Crashing to the bottom uninjured, Kyran climbed out of the portal. “They found us.”

  Shouts could be heard in the distance.

  “We need somewhere to hide,” said Edvon. “Now.”

  “I … I think I have an idea.” Sabine rushed off, steering the trio through a series of narrowing passageways.

  They reached yet another steep staircase, one with stone steps that vanished below into darkness.

  “Where are we going?”

  The young woman turned to face them. “The Crypts.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The yellow pip, baqua’s bounciest ball, first rebounded off the ground, then the smooth wall. It took a high arc into the air, and those in the small crowd that had gathered held their breaths in anticipation. One of the four catchers jumped from his corner, arms extended and eyes fixed on the target. The ball landed just out of his reach, and he fell into the water with a spectacular splash.

  “Yes!” shouted Pluto. He high-fived Joss. “That’s five points, with no outs.”

  “No, it’s four,” shouted one of the opposing players.

  The performer turned to his friend, who gave him a wink. “Yes, fine, my fault.”

  The wet pip was thrown back to them, and the team huddled together.

  “It’s your shot,” Pluto said to one of the two players with whom they had joined forces.

  “Right,” she answered as she tightened her baqua gloves. “What are we thinking?”

  “I’d say a short one, we’ve gone long a few times now, and they’ll be expecting another.”

  “Good idea, I’ll go with a left-handed curve.”

  Having made his last shot, Pluto took his place in the scoring box, while the teammate grabbed the ball and positioned herself in front of the wall. As she ran toward it, the catchers shifted around the edges of the pool, in an effort to confuse her. The plan worked. Hesitating mid-throw, the woman lobbed a weak toss. The pip rebounded pathetically off the wall and right at a catcher’s awaiting glove. Rather than flipping the ball to a teammate for the extra out, he played a low-risk strategy and held onto it firmly. “One out.”

  Pluto exhaled, frustrated by the ineptitude he had just witnessed. “Come on, we still have three outs to work with.”

  Joss clapped his hands, and the opponents passed him the pip. Without pausing, he sprinted toward the wall, making a long swooping underhanded throw. The ball skidded against the ground and off the smooth stone, ricocheting toward the open water. Unfortunately for Joss, his drive throw was met by an outstanding defensive effort.

  One of the catchers jumped out and diverted the ball with her foot. Anticipating the save, a second catcher snagged the pip and threw it to a teammate as he too fell into the pool. The third catcher, clutching the safety railing with one hand, leaned out and snatched the ball. “Triple out!” she exclaimed. The jubilant opposing players roared, slapping the water excitedly like geegas with their fins. “Our turn to throw. That’s four outs.”

  The teams switched positions. They had achieved four points in the first frame, a decent score despite having stranded a thrower in the scoring box. There were only three frames in a game of baqua, and every toss mattered.

  They opted for a traditional defensive formation, with one catcher at each corner of the square pool. This left a vulnerable spot in the center of the water, though aiming the ball there would require impressive accuracy. The first opposing player succeeded in exhibiting just that. A splash, and he went to stand in the scoring box, making a fist pump.

  Pluto jumped in to fetch the pip. “Stick to your spots,” he ordered. “They won’t hit the middle twice.”

  The second thrower wound up and launched the ball at the wall. It rebounded and curved wildly before hitting the same point in the middle of the pool.

  “No way …”

  “Yes way,” the second thrower retorted, loosening her gloves and taking her teammate’s place in the scoring box. “One point and no outs.”

  Pluto looked over to Joss, who pointed at another zone on the defensive railing surrounding the pool. “Okay. You, stay put. You, cover the middle of the pool instead, and I’ll slide there to cover the front.”

  They shuffled around, leaving a weak point in the back right corner. The opposing thrower zeroed in on it, but the ball sailed above the water, landing on concrete instead.

  “That’s an out!” exclaimed Pluto. He turned to his teammates. “Shift two steps to the left as he winds up.”

  The fourth thrower kept his concentration, arcing the pip toward a vulnerable location in the square. Joss jumped backward, catching the ball mid-air. As he fell into the water, he threw it back up, hoping someone would grab it for the double out. Or even divert it for a triple out. The plan failed, the closest catcher letting the ball slip through his glove.

  “Another point,” shouted the thrower. “And you don’t get the first out since the pip hit the water.”

  Pluto brought a hand to his face before walking around the edge of the pool and helping his friend. “Listen, these two we’re playing with aren’t exactly the fittest balbaks in the pack, if you catch my drift. And we’re using a yellow pip, not a black one. So let’s just play the easy outs and forget about turning doubles or triples with them.”

  “Hey, I heard that!”

  “Good, use it as motivation.”

  The disgruntled teammates took their respective places along the edge of the pool. More runs were scored, and they managed to get the required four outs. They were tied four to four going into the next frame.

  Neither side netted any points during the second set of tosses, with miscues by each player preventing any scoring output. Pluto kicked off the third frame, however, with a beautiful spinning effort that landed into the water with plenty of space. He walked to the scoring box. “Come on. Bring me in!”

  The second thrower did just that, driving a hard line drive which bounced off a catcher’s outstretched glove. She took Pluto’s place in the scoring box. An unforeseen double out resulted when Joss threw, emptying the box, though the fourth thrower filled it once more with a solid trajectory.

  Pluto came up to the wall and fired a strong shot. But the opposing team had positioned someone at the front center railing. He caught the ball with his glove and flipped it to the nearest teammate. “Double out.”

  “Nice try,” Pluto shot back. “But that was a catch, not a flip. You only get one out.”

  “No way, I never held possession of the pip.”

  “Yes, you did! That was a clear cat
ch.”

  “Let them have it,” one of the opposing players said. “We’ll get the next out.”

  The bitter catcher tossed the ball back, and Pluto watched his teammate loop a high curve right into open water. “No, you won’t!”

  The fourth out did come with the next throw, however, and they went to the defensive position with a slim six-to-four lead.

  To Pluto’s surprise, the first attempt came flying at him. Against his better judgment, rather than catching the pip, he flipped it toward Joss, making sure not to maintain possession as his opponent had done earlier. Joss was ready, and he tapped the ball to their third teammate. She jumped forward, cradling and throwing it to the last catcher before falling into the water. Pluto closed his eyes. Peeping ever so slightly, he watched as their fourth teammate dove head first, stretching out his right arm and making the catch.

  “Baqua!” exclaimed Pluto. “That’s a baqua!”

  The rare quadruple out, after which the game was named, ended the match. Pluto tossed his gloves and jumped into the pool to congratulate his exuberant teammates.

  After shaking hands with the losing team, the performers dried off. They walked past a dozen courts, walls painted in vibrant colors and pools uniform in perimeter and depth. “Gods, I love winning. And we got a baqua.” Joss grinned. “Lucky Roach?” He had no reason to double-check his companion’s answer, Pluto knew. They left the athletic complex, traversing neighborhoods at a leisurely pace. As they arrived at their favorite locale, the two friends were stopped by a very ordinary looking man.

  “Are you Pluto?” he asked.

  “Yours truly. Who’s asking?”

  “I was told I might find you here,” said the man, pointing to the Lucky Roach and ignoring the question.

  “Oh, yeah?” Pluto replied. “And who told you that?”

  Elias hesitated. It had been an arduous mission to sneak back into the Academy and access the archives while steering clear of Marrek. The officer felt he had betrayed the preceptor. Divulging that the Academy kept a file on every single Adept in Phaidros, complete with a sketch and common whereabouts, would only add to his guilt. He just needed to convince the two men to meet with Lecarn. “Um, one of your … friends.”

  “Which one? Is this about the baqua we just scored?”

  “What?” asked Elias. “Look, it … it doesn’t matter. I have a job for you, if you’re interested.”

  “And if we’re not?”

  “Then, well … I’ll move on to the next names on my list.”

  “Wait. How long have you been waiting here? And how did you know what we looked like?” Pluto frowned. “Have you been asking everyone walking in if they’re us?”

  Joss pointed to Elias.

  “Yes, you’re right, you’re right,” conceded the tall performer. “What’s this job?”

  “Well, I’m actually not too sure, uh … I think he’s tracking something down, and—”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Mister, umm … Lecarn.”

  “Lecarn? What kind of a name is that? Did you just make it up?”

  Elias grimaced. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself, alright? What I know is that he asked me to find some Adept—able … adaptable people for some type of job.”

  Pluto walked away.

  “Wait!” shouted Elias. “It’s paid very well. Seven hundred gold coins.”

  The performer stopped in his tracks and spun around, giving his best effort at a genuine smile. “Seven hundred?”

  “Each.”

  Pluto and Joss glanced at each other. “When can we start, my friend?” They made their way back toward Elias.

  “Immediately, he’s waiting for you at Mirabel Crater.”

  “Yuck!” yelped Pluto, bringing a hand up to his mouth. “That’s in … Portown.”

  Elias attempted an encouraging smile. “Only for a few months.”

  “A few months?”

  The performers turned to leave. Once again, the officer begged them to reconsider. “Wait! How much do you want?”

  “Double.”

  Not caring in the slightest for the state of Lecarn’s wealth, Elias readily agreed. “Done.”

  “Excellent.” Pluto rubbed the palms of his hands together. “And you’ve arranged for transportation, I presume?”

  “Yes,” replied the officer, pulling Lecarn’s tickets from his pocket. “On Ocean Star, leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Ocean Star? Why, my good man.”

  “Mhmm.” Elias stepped away.

  “Hold up!” called out Pluto. “Don’t we get part of the payment up front?”

  The officer stared back at them, his eyelids drooping dramatically. After a moment, he looked like a dead balbak, and Pluto felt genuine concern. “Did you, uh … are you okay?”

  Elias disappeared into the flow of SPCs, and Pluto raised an eyebrow. “What a weird little man. So, should we do it, then?” Joss nodded. “Are you sure?” Another nod. “Yes, you’re right. Some kind of job? Nothing we can’t handle.” They opened the door to the Lucky Roach. “Let’s go make more coins, so we can smoke them all away.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The skull glared back at her with a chilling scowl, a dim light from the torches flickering in and out of the dark orbits. Bereft of a lower jaw as well as most upper teeth, the head was melancholic. Who were you? Along the top of the corroded cranium, a large crack could be seen extending toward the nasal cavity, perhaps evidence of its owner’s demise. Yikes. Sabine turned away, taking in the eerie sights. The four small interlocking rooms were made entirely of bones, organized in a macabre fashion that verged on a majestic display of artistry. In one, femurs were stacked horizontally, with a row of skulls zigzagging its way through the pile. In another, pelvic bones arranged in spirals encircled several full-size skeletons, their arms positioned outward. Sabine shivered, opting to altogether ignore the contents of the two remaining rooms.

  Edvon was examining an elliptical display of thoracic vertebrae. “What is this place?”

  “The Crypts,” the young woman answered, as if she had visited many times. Sabine was terrified. Only the highest-ranking Overseers ventured into the sacred catacombs, and many within the Temple held the chamber in superstitious awe. “They’ll never think to look for us here,” she added.

  “Because it’s just like another dungeon.”

  “It’s better than being caught and killed.”

  Edvon grunted.

  “Did you have a better idea? As soon as the bells start to ring, they seal every entrance. So there’s no way out.” Sabine stomped to the base of the steps. She sat down, bringing her hands to her face and longing for her favorite place. Thick shag rugs mantled its hickory hardwood floors, faded tapestries hung from the brick walls. A crackling sound emanated from the massive fireplace which bestowed warmth to the space. Sabine’s favorite sofa was nearest the grand bookcase. She could sit there, cuddled in her blanket for hours on end, reading or gazing out the arched windows at the panoramic view of Phaidros. Thinking of the warm common room high in the Temple’s fourth spire was dispiriting, especially as she felt the frigid Crypts’ air run up the base of her spine. What am I doing? The escape happened so fast, there was no time to think it through. I should have kept screaming for help. If the Adepts had been captured, the commandant would surely have forgiven her. Sabine just wanted her life to go back to what it had been, for everything to be normal once more. After what happened, I’ll … I’ll never be welcome here again. Edvon kicked a skull lying on the ground into the wall, shattering it into several broken pieces. By Lutigas! Sabine closed her eyes, shivering once more. I can’t trust them. They’ll kill me as soon as we get out of here. Or worse, bring me back to their Academy. The Book of Provenance was clear. Their ancestors had been exiled from the heavens for using It, and now, Adepts were making the same mistake. They were threatening everyone’s life. If only platinum weren’t so rare. Then we could really keep them away. The young woman wished
that when her eyes opened, she could be on her sofa, a book in hand, surrounded by friends.

  Kyran walked back into the chamber. “You need to come see this.” They followed him through the Crypts, and he pointed at the far wall.

  Sabine examined it and shuttered, nauseous. Hundreds of little skeletons, miniature in size, were stacked in a disorderly fashion.

  Edvon too was perturbed. “Next time, I’ll pass on seeing the dead babies.”

  “Just put your hands up to the wall,” said Kyran.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Sabine shook her head. “What is it? Just tell us.”

  “There’s a flow of air.”

  Edvon examined the wall to verify the validity of his brother’s claim. “He’s right.”

  “So?” asked Sabine.

  “It means there must be a passage on the other side,” Kyran explained.

  They scanned for a way through, but the bones, stacked tight from floor to ceiling, would not budge. Edvon suggested a more radical approach. “Let’s blast these things.”

  Shoulder to shoulder, the defiant siblings faced their target. As Source energy rushed into him, Kyran directed the flow through his core and into his extended arms toward the stack of bones. Feeling the intensity grow, he strove to master the fine line between steady grip and complete loss of control. Kyran released the surge from his fingertips, savoring the transience of power cascading within him.

  Sabine, huddled in a corner, watched in horror as the two bright-eyed Adepts clobbered the wall with a deafening explosion, sending bones flying around the room. When the dust settled, a large gap had sprung up, leading to an obscure tunnel.

  “That was very loud,” the anxious woman said, hands still cupped around her ears.

  “Then let’s not wait around.” The shine in Edvon’s eyes was fading. “Kyran, grab that torch over there!” The older brother ducked through the cavity.

  They ran through the desolate tunnel, winding their way down a steep incline. In minutes, the three escapees stood at a crossing, with several paths extending in various directions.