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

by J. M. Rojas

CHAPTER 22: PLANS

  Oreus' study chamber was large and elegant, with two twelve-foot doors at one end, and a gloam-wood desk at the other. Behind the desk was a window that looked out over the front lawn of the Chamber of Lore; a splendid arch of intricate design—figures carved in white stone, entwined in an epic battle between long-lanced wielding Atlanteans in flowing cloaks and thick limbed Osirians with heavy armour and angular maces—which framed a mosaic window of many colours.

  In the centre of the room was a large table of dark mahogany—a gift from some wealthy lore-kin carpenter that helped restore most of the Library's furniture. The squat legs were carved to appear like dragon claws, and around the girth of the thick table were drawers with silver handles and trimmings. The symbols of the great nations of the Lemurian empire were also etched in silver on the panels between the drawers; and a thick layer of glass with smooth edges covered the table-top, displaying a beautiful painting of the city of Atlantis beneath. Tall, glimmering towers shrouded under rolling clouds and a rising sun, whose rays cut through them like golden lances.

  A giant leather book with silver cornered covers lay spread open on a wooden book stand in the middle of the table. A map of the Old World was on one page, and the other was a modern map of Earth on transparent paper, which could be turned over to superimpose both maps, revealing where land masses and cities once were. Circling this tome and laying haphazardly across the table were piles of encyclopaedias, note books, scrolls, half melted candles, ink wells and strange looking wood-carved artefacts from different countries. There was also large human-shaped skull in a bird cage, with the word “Nephilim” written on a bronze plaque fitted on its door.

  Jack awed at Oreus' strange collection, especially the skull, as he slowly made his way into the room. Must have been taken from a museum. He thought. Nephilim were giants...

  So are the people from the Three Empires. Layla replied to his unguarded thoughts, causing him to jump a little. In comparison to your people, of course.

  Truth and legend... intertwined. Jack replied, his eyes still on the skull.

  The half-Atlantean followed Mathias' ushering gestures to a long, black leather couch that ran the length of one of the room's walls. He sat with Layla and Ramose, his eyes flitting about at all the paintings and woven wall art that adorned the chamber. Ancient relics that had been saved from various parts of the world.

  “I am truly sorry for the behaviour of my son,” Oreus said, resting in his study's chair, which groaned under his weight. His gaze shifted to all the faces of the companions as they entered. “He does not understand what we face, and would never accept the decisions that Toram made for our people. If this is true, and I now know that it is so, any attempt to return our people to the past so we can change the course of history, will surely see the end of Gaia and all her people.”

  “You do not need to apologise for your son's actions,” Mathias replied. He closed the doors to the study with a gentle thud, his eyes closed, his thoughts prying beyond its timbre to keep watch of the hallways outside. Listening for spies. Slowly he opened his eyes again, nodding, confirming their privacy was still kept. “He feels, like Toram, that he is fighting for the good of his people. However, his distrust for us and your decisions makes him a volatile element to our plan. We must keep him away from the scent. Assure him that we seek to save the past. He would never agree with the Armak Tor'Kai's warning, and would not agree with the road we must take.”

  “The Mir follow the Change,” Will said, standing from a stool next to Oreus. His boots clacked across the marble floor as he approached the central table. Reaching out, he slowly peeled the new world map over the top of the old. “The Change is a powerful, living, memory that is embodied in a vast pool of water, which the Mir call the Mirror of Worlds. It sees past, present and future through the Aether—the earth's spirit of entwined memories. If Armak Tor'Kai saw the end of all things because of our people, then I am shamed to want to restore our nations. Let us take this to the people!”

  Cloak made a derisive snort from where he stood by a large painting on the opposite wall to the couch. It depicted the fall of Atlantis. A small figure, engulfed in flames, levitating above its ruin was evidently Emperor Ka'ash II. Cloak was admiring it, his finger softly touching the curves of the waves that arched over the island city.

  Shrugging off his companion's unspoken ridicule, Will turned to Cloak, with conviction in his blue eyes. “There is no hope for this world in destroying the Crown of Dreams before The Fall. I will not let that happen, Erin. By my blood, I will die for Gaia and her people. So must we all! We must let our people, who trust us, know what we plan to do. If they were to look into the Mirror of Worlds by grace of the Mir—”

  “Pretty, but naive words,” Cloak laughed, interrupting. “The Mir will not allow such things. And have you considered this, friend, that most if not all of our people want to go home? They want to return to their families who did not make it. They don't care about the fate of the world after their bones are dust.”

  Will made a move to speak, but Cloak raised a hand to silence him, turning to look at him over his shoulder. “I am not saying I would agree with Rykar. Far from it. The past is the past, and I have quite enjoyed my time here among the short folk.” He winked at Jack, before turning back to William.

  The teenager shook his head, but couldn't hide his smile at the arrogance of the Samatar he wanted so much to dislike.

  “Shocked to hear me say that, I know. But there is something about this time, about this rebuilt world that has me curious to know what future it will hold for them. For us.”

  “Erinaeus speaks the truth,” Oreus said. “Our people will not agree to Toram's plan. They would have me imprisoned or worse if they even suspected that was what we planned to do. No, we must keep this from everybody.”

  “What is the plan then?” Ramose braved to ask, rising from the long leather couch, his Staff of Dancing Winds spinning lazily in his hands.

  “The plan is simple,” Mathias said. “We go back to the past. We will fly to Imnalain a couple of days before the Last War and wait for the Sorrarani messengers who will be carrying the Maker's Hand upon a swift wind from Suruun. Then we will take it from them, and return back here. Oreus, you must retrieve the key from Thomas' grave, and we will meet you at Mount Spire. Then, we will finally end this war.”

  “I will gather an army,” Oreus said, standing, “and they will meet at Zerzura with the bulk of our forces. This will draw Kaelan's attention, and perhaps give him false hope that the Crown of Dreams is found and being guarded there. To strengthen this ploy, I can send out easily intercepted messages for him to find.”

  “Yes, that will buy us time.” Mathias agreed. “The rebels must not know our movements. The destruction of the Crown must be hidden from the eyes of our enemies—” the general turned to Will, “—and our friends.”

  “If this must be so...” Will said, bowing slightly.

  “It is the only way.” Mathias' words were firm, final.

  “I have a question,” Ramose said, raising his tanned arm. “How did you all manage to sneak into that cleaner's room, then vanish?”

  Cloak spun around from the painting and stared at the teenager intensely. “That reminded me, djinn, why were you following us?”

  “You can't answer a question with another question,” Ramose said, unafraid of the Samatar's demands. “I saw you all file into that small room; and was thinking, that's an odd place to hold a meeting. Then, when I tested the door it was unlocked. So I popped inside... and you were gone! A secret door, perhaps?”

  Will laughed at Ramose' cheek, breaking his previously sullen mood.

  “We were in the Chamber of Sleep,” Mathias said, drawing the djinn's attention. “It resides beyond that small room's back wall.”

  “But you came out of another room!” Ramose exclaimed, tapping his staff on the floor.

  “It has many doors, young djinn,” Oreus added, and Jackʼs head snap
ped to him.

  “Interesting.” Ramose slid his hands down the length of his staff, whilst plonking on the couch next to Jack.

  “I also have a question,” Jack said, jumping to his feet just as Ramose was seated. “Why can't we simply destroy the crown now, without the hammer? I'm sure we could melt it down, or break it apart with the tools we have in this world.”

  All eyes turned to him, but it was Oreus who answered. “There are dire consequences with destroying it with other tools, Jack. We need to dismantle the Crown with means only available in the time before the Fall. The memory webs that it has now subconsciously woven, even in its dormant state, are far reaching and deep. It has crept into the minds of all those connected to the Aether, which is everyone on this planet. The nature of its power is that it has merged with the Aether as a separate mind, a separate entity, and knows all of our dreams and secret thoughts, and can use them for great and terrible things. For Kha'ash II to pull a star from the sky and smash it into Earth used all our minds, unwittingly. To simply melt it or break it to pieces could destroy memories, shatter minds and bring about a great madness. So say the Mir and the ancient writings of the Azlazarani.”

  Jack nodded at the grim answer; however he had not run out of questions to ask. “How will you tell your—our people that the Crown was not destroyed in the past then, as they would expect it to be.”

  Mathias smiled at Jack's use of the word 'our'. “Well, that is what I have been thinking this whole time, young Jack. I will do what your father would have wanted me to do. Not lie.”

  “But you can't tell them!” Jack found himself suddenly shouting. He knew what would happen if the Keepers discovered Mathias had betrayed their wishes of restoring the past. “I mean, we can't! It will have terrible consequences for all of us!”

  “I will take the blame for this decision, Jack.” The general stood tall and proud, looking down with a soft smile at the teenager. “I will tell them that it was my decision, and that I gave the orders.”

  “But—”

  “I will most likely be imprisoned by Rykar and his mob, but that is the sacrifice we must make. For all our peoples, yours included. And for the planet itself. We cannot let the message from The Change come to pass. If our people are to die out, and give way to your people, then it will be so.”

  “They will learn to love this world,” Oreus said, with sadness in his eyes. “Some already have. Like your father, Jack. In time, they will forgive us.”

  “We must consider all our fates,” Layla said quickly, looking down at her hands as if searching for strength in them. Then after a moment of silence she lifted her head, her face strong like Mathias'. “I am willing to accept whatever punishment our people deem fit for this necessary deception.”

  “As will I,” Will echoed, blue eyes flashing defiance.

  Cloak paused and turned back to the painting.

  Ramose kept his face to the ground.

  Silence prevailed for a long time.

  Jack lingered alone on the veranda and steps of the Chamber of Lore, facing the dark expanse of the hidden city. Beyond the Fathers of Osira towered pillars, bearing the weight of the cavern roof. They were covered in gloam-vines, glowing faintly in the distance like moss covered trees. Hopping up and down the top steps, his mind wandered as he sang and hummed a melody he had remembered hearing in Rowan's car.

  “Let us ride into the night! With wheels of fire burning bright!”

  He suddenly struck a rock and roll pose with his legs spread far apart and hands strumming an air guitar. Flicking his wrists for one triumphant strum of his imaginary instrument, Jack raced down the flight of steps stopping occasionally to strum some more. On the last step he leaped onto the mosaic footpath, kicking the air dramatically.

  “Thank you, Alexandria!” He shouted into the darkness, his voice echoing about him. The imaginary crowd cheered, and he bowed to them with a goofy grin.

  The cheering faded in his mind, and the darkness remained unchanged.

  “If only,” he whispered to himself, and his smile vanished.

  Jack stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes trying to pry the darkness between the pillars, searching for something that would answer all his questions and doubts about the mission, his father and himself. When no answer leaped from the shadows, or resounded in his head like Layla's voice so often did, he settled down on the last step, his feet firmly planted on the patterned stone. His chin dropped onto his two palms, which were braced by his elbows on his knees.

  “What have you gotten yourself into, Jack.” His voice was a soft whisper in the breezeless cavern around him. “In some underground city, about to go on a quest in the past to find a magical hammer... that can destroy a magical crown.”

  “So simply put,” a voice shot from behind, causing him to flinch.

  “Why do people tend to sneak up behind you around here?” Jack laughed, recognising the distinguishable accent of Ramose. He turned around and saw the big purple-eyed teenager standing on one of the broad, flat rails that braced the steps. “You're just as soft-footed as that damn Rykar.”

  Ramose laughed, bowed low, then ran, leaped off the rail, summersaulted, and landed next to Jack with a thud. “But stronger, smarter, and better looking. Rykar looks like he would scare a girl away by simply smiling those big crooked teeth of his.”

  “He doesn't seem like much of a charmer, does he?”

  “I think that brute would even scare a Nasnas!”

  Jack raised a brow. “What's a Nasnas?”

  “You haven't heard of the sand devils that inhabit dead bodies?”

  “Sounds like another mythology that turns out to be true.” Jack's face looked like he'd heard it all.

  Ramose nodded, then laughed. “This must all be very strange for you.”

  “You don't know the half of it,” Jack said, turning back to the glowing pillars in the distance. He looked at his watch and then back at the pillars, pointing at them. “They are the only lights we'll see tonight. We wonʼt get to see the Egyptian sunrise.”

  “Do you want to see the sunrise?” his companion asked, and he could feel the teenager was smiling at him mischievously.

  “But how? We can't possibly—”

  “Beyond the Inner Sanctum is the Hall of Lords, and The Rise. A great staircase to the streets of Alexandria. It is the main route for lore-kin and Lemurian journeymen. Under disguises we could just as easily—”

  “Get caught.”

  The pair spun around and found Mathias standing on the steps behind them. The giant loomed like one of the foreboding statues that circled the lawn of the Chamber of Lore. His shadowed brow barely hiding his storm-grey eyes, and making his angular face look more like a chiselled cliff-face.

  “You mentioned something about people sneaking up on you,” Ramose whispered to Jack with a wink.

  “Mathias!” Jack said, jumping to his feet. “We-we weren't planning to... what I mean is...”

  “What my friend is trying to say,” Ramose said, standing calmly next to Jack, “is that he wasn't planning our escape to the up-world, so we could sneak a peak at an Alexandria sunrise... I was planning our escape. He was just tagging along.”

  A prompt elbow jab to his ribs ended any more words the djinn might have wanted to say.

  For a moment Jack thought Mathias would thunder down the last few steps that separated them and throttle them both in his powerful hands; but instead he stood perfectly still, unmoving. Finally, he turned and began to carefully ascend the steps.

  The boys both looked at each other, puzzled.

  Mathias stopped. “Well?” He said, not turning. “Are you coming to see the sunrise or not?”

  A pause, then Jack and Ramose leaped after him with huge grins.

  “Come on, Jack!” the djinn laughed, running passed Mathias towards the doors of the Chamber of Lore. “You're not wanting to miss this!”

  “I'm right behind you!” Jack shouted, passing Mathias up the stairs. He sk
idded to a halt on mid-climb, and turned back. There was apprehension on his face.

  “This is allowed, under my watch,” Mathias answered, knowing what his unasked question was. “I am still the general of Atlantis' armies. The guards who protect The Rise will let us passed. You have nothing to fear, Jack.”

  “Okay, but as long as we don't draw any attention. I wouldnʼt want to aggravate Rykar anymore than I've already done.”

  “Leave Rykar to me,” Mathias said. “This is simply... 'site seeing', as your people would call it.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said, smiling. “I appreciate it.”

  The general nodded, and then shooed him onwards.

  “Come on, feet-dragger!” Ramose' voice called from the top of the steps.

  “Coming!” Jack laughed, and sprinted up the last of the steps.