Dark Tide Rising (Book 1 of The Bright Eyes Trilogy)

by J. M. Rojas

CHAPTER 7: THROUGH THE GATE

  Caleb's voice sounded excited for once. This was rare for the seen-it-all-done-it-all teenager.

  “You're going to love Paradise,” Jack's best friend said through the cellphone's receiver, “It has so much to see and do there. The skate parks, the clubs, the women!”

  “I'm not going for any of them,” Jack laughed, leaning back on his computer chair, “I'm there to check out the universities, and spend some time with Rowan and Emily. They said they were going to take me on a grand tour of all the nice scenic locations—”

  “Boring!” Caleb cut him off. “Man, you seriously need to walk along the beaches in Paradise. You won't regret it. The women are so gorgeous there, you'll think you've died and gone to heaven. Its like those magazines I showed you in ninth grade—only real.”

  “I'm not that naïve,” Jack huffed, then suddenly reminisced about Layla. “It's not like I haven't seen a gorgeous woman before.” His last comment was a contemplative whisper.

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Look,” Jack said, quickly trying to gain control of the conversation, “I just called to say goodbye.”

  Silence.

  “You're saying it like I'll never see you again. Its only for a week.”

  “I know, but this is a big thing for me. I've never left this town before, as you know, and I suppose I just want you to know that...”

  “Know what?” Caleb asked, curious and impatient by Jack's cryptic talk.

  “That I will miss you and hope to see you again soon.” Jack shook his head, silently berating himself for how cheesy and odd his sentiment sounded.

  “You're weird you know that,” Caleb replied, but his tone was endearing. “I suppose that is why we're friends.”

  Jack smiled.

  “I'll miss you too buddy; I won't have anyone to leech notes off of in history class. Joking, of course. But seriously, you'll be okay, just have fun and don't get lost. I know you too well. You're head is always in the clouds. Anyway, I gotta split. Mum is heckling me to help her clean the car.”

  “Alright,” Jack said, “Take it easy. I'll see you next Saturday, okay?”

  “Okay—oh wait!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just do one thing for me?”

  “What's that?”

  “Promise me, please promise me, you'll hook up in Paradise. You've been single for as long as I've known you, and I'm afraid you'll one day become this academic-obsessed lunatic, who has never kissed a girl in his life. I don't want you to die alone. Not that I'm saying the first girl you kiss you will marry, but you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jack laughed. “See you later, Caleb.”

  “See-ya!”

  Click.

  The afternoon faded into night like the lingering glow of a dying candle.

  Jack lay sprawled on a hammock, watching the darkening sky descend like a curtain over the sun's last rays.

  Jinx, the cat, was stretched out on the lawn beside him, yawning and flexing her claws intermittently. She rarely spent time with him in the past; and Jack suspected she may have sensed a change in his thoughts. This was not strange to him, as he had caught Jinx many times reacting to his private thoughts. She could read him, like he could read other people.

  He smiled sadly, and idly stroked the black feline's glimmering coat. This would be Jack's last day at home, before he was to set out on his quest back into the past. He would miss everyone, even Jinx.

  The teenager had spent most of the day with his family, and the rest of the afternoon scouring the Internet for any information he could find on ancient, mythological cities and sites around the world. He had furiously read up on Plato's romantic vision of Atlantis, the mystical Isle of Avalon in England where King Arthur's remains lay, and the gold paved streets of Eldorado in South America; and was now contemplating the concept of an advanced civilization, far older than any found in the history books he had read.

  It was fascinating that so much literature could be found on a subject that verged on fantasy and science-fiction. He couldn't help but wonder how much of what he was seeing on his computer screen was actually real, or merely hoaxes to draw in an audience.

  Jack had read websites that claimed to host uncovered, ancient records from the times of Atlantis, Rama and Osiria. They spoke of a terrible war between the three great nations—that Jack was now informed was called the 'War of the Three Empires'—and supported their documents with images of cave paintings and hieroglyphs, which depicted ancient men flying spaceships and wielding laser-guns.

  Some websites spoke of conspiracies, which covered up contact between world governments and aliens from outer space. They said that the aliens knew our true origin, and had helped us rise to heights of advanced technology in our dim past. Now they were allowing us to advance again, through technology that was evolving with leaps and bounds.

  Still others said that the Nephilim—half-angels, half-men—were the descendants of aliens and humans, and were the rulers of Atlantis, the builders of Stone Henge, and responsible for the pyramid beneath the seas of Japan. One particular website owner said that they still roamed the world to this day, and claimed to have seen one. Jack would have laughed out loud if he hadn't seen one himself.

  It seemed to Jack that the articles he read were a blurring of truth and fiction; written by people who did not have any knowledge of the past they claimed to be scholars of, but had sometimes hit the mark with general assumptions. They were creating their own interpretations from pseudo-historical records to satisfy a mystery they would never solve.

  Yet, there were times that Jack saw an ancient cave painting or stone carving, which resembled something Mathias had told him the night before, and he was instantly captivated. Could some of them truly be artifacts from the Age of Awakening, or was he reading into the images too? The Keepers or their lore-kin would surely have apprehended the artifacts from these website owners if that were the case. And who was to say they hadn't?

  Jack let that spider-web of thoughts go, and quietened his mind.

  Remember to keep our powers a secret. He thought back on a conversation he had with his siblings when they had got back from school. Also, watch out for mum. She needs your help around the house. Don't let her do all the work. And don't do anything brash or foolish.

  We won't. Alora had promised.

  Mum is in good hands. James had reassured him.

  Jack sighed. So much was at risk. He was about to go on a journey he may not come back from, and only Rowan knew. Also, his family, unbeknown to them, had now become targets of Kaelan and his rebel Atlanteans, who wanted the Grey children's memory their father had left them of the Crown of Dreams. A memory buried so far back in the dark recesses of Jack's own mind, which he did not know how to draw out. It held the outcome to everything. The fate of the world lay precariously in their—more specifically his—hands.

  “The Gate is buried beneath the pond,” Mathias whispered to Jack, “Much like its sister Gate in the Southlake woods. They were concealed to hide their presence from your people, and our enemies.”

  Mathias, Jack, Cloak, Will and Layla stood in a huddled circle in the corner of the backyard of Jack's home. The fence that Layla had leaped over a couple of nights before shielded their backs, and the tree beside Jack's bedroom window concealed their front view of an oblivious Elly, who was hanging clothes up in the dark.

  An owl suddenly descended from the sky in a ruffling of white feathers, and sat bright-eyed and curious on the yard's back fence. It watched Elly; blinking and titling its head.

  The woman, who loved owls immensely, started to talk to it in that doting way that is used on animals.

  “Do not fear,” Cloak whispered to Jack with a ridiculing smirk and a slap on his shoulder, “Although we can see each other, the belt that you wear has cloaked—pardon the pun—your presence from your mother and any others who are not wearing one.”

  Jack looked down at the belt t
hat Cloak had given to him an hour ago; its strange, metallic, black buckle—which was simply a cube with ancient silver markings etched in its surface—glowed softly. A weak aura; which the assassin had told him meant that it was running out of the psychic energy it relied on. All their belts were low, due to their extended time in Willow, hiding from its inhabitants.

  “We do not need the darkness or that tree to hide behind,” the Nysaean continued, “Elly will not see or hear you whilst you keep it on.”

  “I'm not afraid,” Jack said to the pale-skinned man, furrowing his brows. But Cloak was right, he was a little scared. He did not want her to know what he was up to, where he was going. For all she knew he was already miles away, in the city of Paradise with Rowan and Emily.

  “Your sweat and fast breathing says otherwise,” the Nysaean grinned with a knowing wink.

  Jack frowned, turning to Mathias. “What were you saying about mushrooms earlier?”

  “The fairy circle,” Mathias said, now standing away from the tree with his gaze cast in the direction of the pond. “In your English myths, they speak of a circle of mushrooms where fairies meet. Well, there is some truth in them. Besides their usual, natural formation through sporing, the myth of fairy portals originates from the Shadow Weirs used by my people. Back in ancient times, many of our gates—a large circle of arch-shaped pillars—were buried under the ground to prevent them from being seen by Ramaean and Osirian invaders. The energy channeled by the pillars under the ground, would excite the soil around it, causing the mushrooms to bloom. To outsiders, a Lemurian nobleman using such a gateway would appear as if the mushrooms themselves were creating the portal.”

  “What do these pillars look like?”

  “Stone Henge,” Layla answered, standing close to Jack so he could feel the skin of her forearm lightly touching his. Blushing, he took a step back; but the girl did not notice. “That structure however is only a primitive, stone replica of the metallic ones buried around the world. And you're lucky enough to have one in your backyard.”

  Jack's eyes glittered excitedly at the thought of more than one Stone Henge. “I was always drawn to those ruins.”

  “Perhaps a genetic-memory?” Will offered, his blonde hair shimmering under the cloaking field circulating around him.

  “Maybe,” Jack said, considering that possibility. “But you said the Gate was destroyed in dad's other house,” he said to Mathias, 'How come—”

  “There was another,” Mathias answered. “Thomasʼ Southlake house has many secrets. One of them was the second Gate in the ravine. The one we destroyed was built in a large garage attached to the back of the house. It wasn't buried under the ground, much like the smaller one in your old shed. They were upright, and visible. It was through many investigations of the surrounding land that we discovered the second Gate. Your father has a lot of secrets hidden in that forest. Secret passages and storage chambers...”

  Jack nodded, but did not speak. He was anticipating Mathias' next move.

  When Elly had finished pegging the last piece of clothing, and slowly made her way back into the house, the group began to move towards the pond.

  “Be careful, Jack,” Mathias cautioned, “Once through the gate, we must make for shelter immediately; for the power of these belts are waning. We must also be on our guard. When we came to the Southlake house two nights ago, we detected rebels roaming the grounds. They were searching for more of its secret caches. Your father found many things during his early travels.”

  The teenager's wild imagination speculated on the 'many things'.

  Moonlight illuminated the pondʼs surface, appearing like a silver orb beneath its still water. Mathias strode up to a mound of soil that had been dug up. Kneeling, he thrust his right hand—which bore a silver ring—into the soft earth. After a twist of his wrist, and a mechanical clicking sound, there was suddenly a low rumbling that emitted from somewhere beneath the pond, which gradually evened out into a low hum. This odd noise was accompanied by what sounded like the steady beating of a gigantic heart just under Jack's feet. The pond's surface pulsed small ripples to the rhythmic beat.

  To Jackʼs surprise, the mushrooms trembled, and their caps began to glow a soft blue. Then a wave of blue energy shot out from all points of the pond, as if projected from the mushrooms themselves, and hovered above the pond like another layer of water. However, this layer was a lighter blue; and it separated, and reformed like the crackling arms of a lightning storm.

  “The Gate is opened,” Mathias said in his deep, commanding voice, “enter now.”

  Without hesitating, the giant man stepped into the field of blue light and vanished. Following his lead, the others stepped through the portal.

  Their passing went unnoticed that night. Except for two sets of white-glowing eyes that spied from Jack's bedroom window.

  James and Alora watched in amazement at the sight of the glowing pond.

  The Gate hummed to life in the Southlake woods, scattering a deer and several, smaller forest creatures from the grass-bed of the ravine. The air warmed with the smell of ozone, and the fairy ring lit up.

  Mathias and the others appeared within a blue circle of light. Their forms were concealed by the power of the Nysaean belts; which were, however, fast depleting.

  “Quickly,” the bald man said, pointing to an cluster of trees that crowded at the southern end of the ravine. “Our enemies will be watching for the activation of the Gate.”

  The four Lemurians and Jack moved silently like ghosts to the shelter of the trees within a few seconds.

  “We will wait here,” Mathias said as they entered the copse of trees, “Until I am sure it is clear to proceed.”

  Will and Cloak stood watch at the treeline of the copse, while Mathias and Layla discussed with Jack their plan to approach the house, undetected.

  “I am not sure if Oreus' men are waiting for us,” the general said to Layla, who leaned against one of the oak trees. “There has been no word since our last night in Willow.”

  “Perhaps they were delayed,” Layla suggested.

  “Or dispatched,” Mathias replied pessimistically. “My mind still does not detect any familiar, psychic signals here. But there are others. Other thoughts.”

  Jack wondered who those others were.

  “The ravine is very steep; we can't climb it without being spotted,” Layla pointed out grimly. “We will have to engage any of the rebels prowling around here.”

  “There is another way,” Mathias suggested, his voice quietening to a hoarse whisper. “A path to the west of here, set in the side of the ravine. A secret, underground passage that curves back around to the house. I will have to open the hidden door first.”

  He suddenly pulled up the left sleeve of his military jacket to reveal what appeared to be a silver gauntlet entwined around his forearm. A handle protruded from the elbow area, suggesting there was a blade concealed within the gauntlet.

  “What is that?” Jack asked, his eyes on the silvery vine-like gauntlet.

  “It is a glaive,” Layla answered him. “An Atlantean sword.”

  Jack gasped in awe, remembering Rowan's description of the sword. “It can be controlled by the mind, right?”

  “Correct,” Mathias replied. He then grabbed the handle near his elbow with his free, right hand, and pulled it away from his body as if to unsheathe a concealed weapon. Instead, the gauntlet itself uncoiled and straightened into a gleaming blade. A shimmer of light flashed down its length. “Wait here.”

  Layla nodded. Jack wanted to say more, but the giant had already slipped out of the copse of trees before he could open his mouth.

  The stillness of the night was penetrated by the soft hum of the wind. No familiar nighttime sounds of foraging animals or bird cries could be heard; but a foreboding presence of watching eyes emanated from all directions of the ravine.

  There was a sudden turn in the weather, which was brought on by a strong, bitingly cold gale that set the leafy canopy of th
e forest into a frenzied stir.

  Mathias approached the high, western wall, where atop it stood tall, silhouetted trees, marking the border of the forest.

  His presence was a whisper in the night; his incorporeal body a subtle shadow passing; and his footsteps were masked by the wind's wail, and the combatant clashing of branches far above his head.

  When Mathias reached the wall, he began to run his hands along a section of half-emerged, gray boulders; his fingers searching for something.

  Mathias smiled to himself. His hands uncovered a loose stone wedged between two larger boulders.

  He pushed the rock inwards.

  There was a sound of old cogs turning somewhere within the ravine wall, and one of the boulders slowly moved aside, revealing a small passageway into darkness.

  The way is open. Mathias sent a telepathic message back to Layla.

  The five companions made haste through the deep, unlit tunnel that Thomas had long ago carved into the side of the ravine. The stone door had closed behind them; but the Lemurians managed to navigate through the pitch blackness with the glow of their eyes. Their laboured breaths, and the slapping of their shoes against the stone floor, amplified in the claustrophobic passage.

  As he ran, Jack noticed other tunnels breaking away from either side of the main one they were traversing. He couldn't help but wonder where each one went. What secrets they lead to. Mathias seemed determined to stick with the direction they were running, so Jack assumed the giant had been down here before, and knew their secrets.

  Fearing they might have to run down the cramped tunnel for hours; Jack was relieved when he noticed Mathias slowing down.

  Reaching the tunnel's dead end, the Atlantean general ran to a large, rusty lever, which sprung up from a metal box. Pulling it with both hands, a series of hidden cogs could be heard grinding against each other, and the stone wall before them began to slide open.

  Behind the portal, they found a small chamber that was occupied by a single, metal ladder that rose up into the darkness of the roof. Not waiting to explain where it lead, Mathias began to ascend quickly, casting a momentary glance down at Jack and indicating with a nod for him to do likewise.

  A large, cylindrical shaft, twenty feet high, took the companions to a sealed metal door. Mathias again located another hidden stone mechanism, which allowed him to open the metal door above their heads.

  A large, vine-covered, statue of an Atlantean soldier stood on a high pedestal in the middle of a dry fountain. He wore a winged helmet and wielded a spear, which was broken in several places. The fountain rested in a small courtyard, which was fenced by stone walls. A large apple tree grew in the north-eastern corner; its unpicked fruit lay strewn on the ground in rotting heaps. Neglected, over-grown garden beds ran along the base of each wall, and a wooden gate lay at the southern end.

  Nothing moved.

  Then, a groaning sound from beneath the fountain issued forth, and the statue started turning on its pedestal. It rotated from facing south, towards the wooden gate, to the north. As it turned, a doorway in the pedestal opened.

  Mathias emerged, shaking off the dust that covered his head and shoulders. The others followed, staggering into the courtyard, catching their breath back.

  “Where are we?” Jack asked, coughing out dust and stale air.

  “Thomas' house,” Will answered with a smile. “See.”

  Jack followed the young man's pointing finger. It was clear from where they stood that a large building—an old manor, it appeared—rose up above the courtyard's low-set walls. A tall, arched window, filled with colourful, mosaic glass looked down on them; the moon shimmering pale in its reflection.

  “The Southlake House,” Mathias stated, moving to the gate, his heavy boots squashing a couple of apples as he went. Before he reached it, there was flash from his belt buckle, causing the big man to pause. The black cube gave three more blinks of weak light, then died.

  Three other belts quickly followed suite; except Jack's, which had not been used, and was fully charged when given to him.

  “Damn,” Cloak cursed, “they're out.”

  A flicker of movement in the manor's window caught everyone's attention.

  “Then we had better hurry,” Layla said, pulling her eyes from the window, and pushed her way towards Mathias. “Do you sense anything?”

  The giant nodded, with a dark expression. “They know we are here.” He looked about for Jack, and then said to the unseen teenager, “Keep yourself hidden, they may not know we have you. Follow closely, and don't get lost.”

  Once out the courtyard's gate, the companions quickly passed between its western wall and the house's east wing, along a narrow lawn, until they were facing towards the northern treeline of the woods. Between them and the trees was a grass field, scarcely dotted with outcrops of moss-covered boulders.

  Clearing a weed-infested flower garden at the edge of the house, which clung at their clothing with its cruel, looking thorns, they desperately ran for the wall of shadowy oaks.

  Mathias had his sights set on an offbeat, dirt road sheltered by a passage of trees. It had been the way they had come two nights prior.

  As he got closer, the bald man noticed several shadows flitting amongst the oaks, then heard a soft creaking sound of branches weighing down from above. He paused before slowly looking up.

  “Revenant!” he warned the others, tightly gripping the handle of his glaive.

  “Unfortunately for you,” replied a sinister voice. Crouching on one of the lower branches of an oak, just beneath a cluster of leaves, was a shadowy figure of a man with long white hair. The visible skin of his hands and exposed neck were deathly pale in the moonlight and his eyes glowed crimson red in the dark.

  After a moment of silence the man leaned forward out of the concealment of the leaves and his face was fully illuminated, flooding with detail. The red eyes which stared mockingly at the Atlantean were accompanied by a refined, high cheek-boned face; framing a curved beak-like nose and thin, cruel lips.

  Mathias was, at first, startled at seeing the red-eyed man. Then his surprise quickly changed to undisguised loathing.

  “Gha'haram,” he acknowledged the rebel by name; spitting it like a curse.

  “The one and only,” Gha'haram hissed amusingly. “And now your journey has come to an end, General Mathias.”