“So you are Malakhim, but that is no excuse!” Pele’s eyes flashed and a fireball the size of a small boulder suddenly appeared and darted straight at George. He barely had time to jump away.
Pele sent another fireball, and George, using that amazing agility I’d seen in the sewer, somersaulted over the flaming projectile. Another fireball flashed toward him, but this time, George did a backflip over it. He shoulder-rolled past another as it struck a thick pine tree and ignited, the tree bursting into orange flame lighting the small parking lot.
Time and time again, Pele cast fire at George, and time and time again, he avoided each attempt on his life. But George being George just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Aw, c’mon! Make the fireball bigger!” he shouted. “You can do better than that! Throw it harder!” he yelled as he ducked and dove, jumped and spun. It was a display, and Pele watched with wide eyes, sending fireball after fireball at the Malakhim.
Once, he leapt over a fiery mass and ran his blue-lit Kindjals into it. The blue blades cut through the red flame, slicing off glowing wisps of molten rock that wafted in the wind and cooled as it fell. It covered the forest in purple, glass-like strands.
“How about a fastball?” George yelled. Madame Pele tossed a fireball. George caught it on the flat of the blade and spun his Kindjals faster and faster as the fireball flowed along the blade with increasing speed. The rays of color combined, creating a vibrant purple that lit the entire forest.
George was a blur as his radiance grew brighter and brighter. The low-hanging clouds were aglow with white light.
Finally, he cast the white-hot sphere into the sky. It exploded, creating a gap in the surrounding clouds, exposing the stars above.
George gasped for breath and didn’t say a word. The trees behind him were on fire, and firelight lit his mischievous grin.
Pele looked as if she was thinking about sending another fireball but seemed to think better of it. She shrank to a more accommodating size and the fire in her hair went out. The fire goddess was now a beautiful young woman; her raven-black hair wafted like silken webs in the night wind.
“So Malakhim, I haven’t seen the energies disturbed like this in centuries and was curious. You wish to speak with me, I assume?” she asked. I realized that all of that was a test, and George had been found worthy. Now, I guessed, she would listen to his supplication. I wondered what would have happened if he didn’t pass. I imagined one of those fireballs would have fried us up pretty quick.
“Yes, ancient one. We have need of aid from one of the Potestas,” George replied. His voice was now reverent and formal.
“What does the Malakhim need from the Potestas? They have power enough. And who is this human? I can feel his Mana from here.”
“He may be Mashiach, one of the anointed,” George answered.
“You lie. That tradition is over. The Accords prevent it,” she spat.
“Such is, as it may be.”
Pele disappeared, casting the entire roadway into darkness for a brief second, then reappeared right beside me. “Human, I will look at you.” I stood there, unsure of what to do. George nodded and I stepped forward.
She cast both hands toward me, her eyes closed. Bright tendrils of fire sprang from her open hands, weaving around me, pulling me closer. My pendant sprang to life, its light twined with her twists of flame. The two danced, and I heard a voice in my mind.
“Are you the Messiah sent to end this hated war?” the voice whispered.
“I don’t know,” I cried out, begging to understand.
“We have waited so long,” the voice whispered again. I saw a vision of a far-off planet with three moons and a ship with Pele and many others who shared the same dark skin, the same shining ebony hair. I watched as the ship floated down from the clouds to tiny emeralds of green in a sea of blue. I saw Pele’s people building a city of stone on the slopes of a mountain. I watched as they created a place of their own.
Time seemed to pass, and Pele’s people were in celebration. I watched Pele dance around a lava flow, causing the deadly lava to run, bending at her whim. Pride and frenzy were at odds with each other in her dance. Viscous lava boiled from the mountaintops in great rivers, destroying the very city her people had created.
A giant ship’s great doors closed with Pele still outside, crying to be heard. There was the face of a sister at a window, the ship disappearing into the clouds, Pele’s tears falling below.
The vision ended and the fire goddess stood there looking at the stars far above. A faint regret lined her tired-looking eyes. How long had she been waiting to return home? How much had she endured? Before thinking, I extended my hand to hers. She looked down at my offered hand and took it. Our auras gleamed, bending and twining as tears fell from the fire goddess’ eyes.
“I know not if you are one of the Anointed, but yes, I will help you, Matthew Rising,” she said quietly and turned away. George followed, beckoning Dad and me forward.
Pele turned back toward us. “You will stay here,” she ordered, gesturing at my father.
“But he is my son,” Dad told the fire goddess.
“I know your duty, but you will stay here. You may be reunited in the future, but your destinies diverge for a time. More than that, I will not say.” Her eyes glowed brightly. She looked off into the distance and I thought I heard the faint sound of sirens. I guess a forest fire would bring the authorities running. “If I am to help you, we must go now,” she said.
Dad stepped back, his eyes gleaming in the twilight. “Matt. Keep your eyes open and your head down…” It was his mantra before every sparring session. It was the only thing we both shared.
“…And I might get through this,” I finished. He stepped forward and hugged me awkwardly.
“Everything I’ve done has been to prepare you for this moment, Matthew. Everything. You be safe. See you soon, kid.” He let me go. I nodded and followed the Fire Goddess into the dark forest in the middle of the night, leaving my father behind.
Chapter 9 – Through the Looking Glass
CNB News – Two teenagers opened fire on classmates at St. Peter’s, a parochial Catholic High School in Honolulu, HI today, killing twenty-four. It was the deadliest school shooting incident in US history. One of the alleged shooters escaped soon after the attack. An island-wide manhunt is in search of the attacker.
The remaining alleged accomplice denied having any memory of the incident, insisting that he was not part of the attack. Video and eyewitness testimony provide clear evidence of his involvement.
The dead include students and at least three teachers.
We followed the goddess, her white gown glowing ahead of us, and travelled farther and farther into the forest until the yellow-glow of the sodium streetlights disappeared. I followed the fire goddess as closely as I could, George right behind me.
The moonlight slipped through the trees, creating shifting patches in the deepening gloom. The path twisted and wound through outcrops of stone and around dense underbrush. If I were alone, I would have been completely lost within minutes, but Pele continued steadily ahead.
Small animals poked their heads out from under branches and peered from rocks overhead, watching us as we passed. One of these popped out just in front of me and I realized it wasn’t an animal at all but a very tiny person, not much more than a foot tall and holding a tiny spear. I reached out and the little man shrilled loudly and jabbed at me with the spear. I pulled my hand back from the now-very-irate Pixie.
“Menehune. You better watch out for them. They can be kinda prickish,” George said with a grin.
“Menehunes? They can’t be real!”
“Look at the smart guy. He’s following Madame Pele, Fire Goddess, and he’s telling me Menehune can’t be real.”
“Okay, smartass. Why is it that I’ve never seen them until now?”
“These little creeps are really, really good at hiding. They shift light, making it pretty
impossible to see them. Your Loci is helping right now though. Do you see their aura?”
I hadn’t realized before, but each of the Menehune was infused by a reddish radiance, lighting their sharp features and vivid eyes.
As he said that, I saw more of the little people popping their heads out of holes all around us. Dozens of little soldiers with sharp spears and wooden helmets chirped loudly as we continued along the dark pathway. Occasionally, one would point their spear and gesture threateningly.
The pathway wound around a grove of trees, then dropped down into a sharp ravine. Moss-covered rock was on our right and black, empty space on our left. I could hear falling water far below, so I hung close to the rock on the right side, watching each of Pele’s delicate steps, making sure to follow exactly in her path. I couldn’t see how far off the drop to the left would be, but I had absolutely no intention of finding out.
The wind whistled through the little valley, buffeting my every step, but Pele continued on, unconcerned. The fire goddess had not looked back once.
“The Menehune are here to protect this place. It’s sacred,” George said.
“Sacred? You mean it’s a church?”
“You’re thinking like an Earthbound again. Always thinking sacred only has to do with a church? Sacred is anything having to do with power, places that channel the energies of the universe. Can’t you feel it surrounding you?” George asked, and I really did. My body felt alive, charged, like I could do anything. I had a sense of euphoria and smiled, letting the feeling wash over me. If George had not brought it to my attention, I wouldn’t have noticed it except to say that it felt really, really good.
“Are there a lot of these places?” I asked.
“Many, many places all over the world. Some places have more power than others. You and I feel them so strongly because of our Loci, but even Earthbounds feel them. They feel the power and think it’s a place of the gods. Which, if you think about it, is pretty true. That’s why so many places of power, so many sacred places, have some kind of church or temple built on the things. The Ancients built structures to harness that energy, to capture the power, focus it, and enhance it. Humans continued that tradition by building churches on top of some of the ancient structures.”
“That’s cool.”
“You have no idea. Check this out!” George said as he pulled out his Kindjals and leapt from the cliff, out into the darkness.
“George!” I yelled in alarm. As he fell, his Kindjals sprang to life, searing light bathing the chasm. Light twirled around him like a cyclone as if he was on one of those indoor-skydiving machines, and he stopped falling. He twisted and spun, channeling the blue streams of light, illuminating the narrow ravine. George whooped and hollered as he spun in circles. I yelled enthusiastically in response.
The Menehune chirped and twittered, transfixed by this stationary flight; their glowing faces lit by George’s fluorescence. Most of the little people gestured at George’s antics appreciatively.
A red tendril of fire wrapped around George’s leg and he was yanked to the ravine floor, landing at Madame Pele’s feet. I hurried down the remaining steps and ran to George, helping him up.
“Well, that was cool until Flaming Lips here put the stops on it. Damn, I was having some fun. Gotta come back when I get a chance,” George remarked, smiling and looking back up at the ridge above.
Pele regarded George with a gentle twinkle in her eye. It seemed even the goddess of fire plays around every once in a while.
The walls of the ravine extended far above, sheltering the small alcove with green-sided fortification. She pointed to a corner of the sharply walled ravine, bidding us to sit.
I could feel the power of the place, the electricity palpable. My skin buzzed and my pendant glowed warmly beneath my shirt.
Pele cast her hands out and fire ignited in low, earthen pits. The flames sent spears of rose-colored light heavenward, lighting the distant mists overhead.
“What’s she doing?” I asked.
“She’s making a portway,” George answered without taking his eyes off her.
“A portway?”
“Yeah,” George said. “We gotta get you off island, and she’s making a portway to do that. I told you, sacred places channel the power of the Earth, or the sun, sometimes the moon and stars. Pele is Potestas, meaning she’s a power broker. She controls energy the way you and I breathe.” He stopped and settled in just as Madame Pele began to move across the flat, pebbled floor of the alcove. “That’s why she has mastery of fire and whips it around with the force she does.”
I sat there, still confused.
“Okay, pay attention,” George said. “Different elements create different power, different energy. What do you think creates the power here?” he asked, tilting his head toward the falls.
“Water?” I said, looking at the huge amounts falling down the ravine.
“Got it on the first try. Actually, it’s the water droplets as they move across the air. That creates a form of static electricity. Kind of like how clouds rub against each other to make lightning. The stone in the rock functions like a battery, storing and creating access to a lot of power that Old Fire Eater here uses. That’s how I could fly up there. I used the built-up energy in the rocks. This narrow channel really stores it up. It’s a perfect sacred place.”
“But what does that have to do with, what’d you call it, a portway?” I asked.
“This island is too dangerous for you, and all of the normal routes are being watched. The enemy would never be able to get to this place. Here, Pele and the Menehune would blast them back to their planet, and they know that. Those little Menehune dudes are a lot tougher than they look, believe me,” George said. “On a planet, it’s called a portway, but you may have heard it called a wormhole, same thing though. Pele is actually bending space to build a tunnel to where we gotta go. There’s a lot of physics that I don’t understand. But what’s important is she’s doing all of this out of nothing because the use of an artificial portway isn’t allowed in Sanctuary. Only someone of her power could ever do that.”
Madame Pele began to wave her arms in small circular motions as she continued her chant. Bits of light twinkled like tiny fireflies. She gathered them, guiding the energy and absorbing it, bathing her hands in flame.
The power flowed, becoming focused and malleable, congealing under her control. The winds calmed and the lightning stopped.
Madame Pele stepped away and motioned toward the portway. George glanced at me.
“Damn it,” George said. “I wish I had a towel.”
“You wish you had a what…” I began but George sucked in a few quick breaths. He ran at the swirling vortex in full sprint, jumping into the fiery circle. “C’mon, Rising! You only live once…” he yelled, the words echoing in the chasm as he disappeared.
I walked to the mouth of the vortex and stuck one hand out, feeling the heat of the fire, and looked back at Pele. She regarded me impatiently and opened her mouth to speak.
“Human… when you see Rene, tell him I now understand.” Red flame lashed out and pushed me into the fiery abyss.
Chapter 10 – Rene
For wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God; that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Ephesians 6:12-13
And then I was falling.
The sound of rushing water hit my ears, drowning out everything around me. Unable to scream, I continued to fall. A deep, dark pool of churning water swallowed me up, cold and unforgiving, and everything disappeared.
Overhead, what felt like tons of water pushed me under as if by a merciless hand. The current grasped and tugged at my clothes, dragging me down as my lungs burned for air.
I struggled uselessly against the flo
od as it pulled me deeper and deeper into the abyss. After all of this, I was going to die by drowning, even after everything I’d been through.
My lungs felt like they were about to burst, but I knew if I gasped for air, the only thing I would find was death. I panicked, thrashing wildly to find the surface as the water continued relentlessly.
I had to calm myself down, had to force my mind to relax and think things through just the way my father had taught me in every one of our training sessions. Panicking was not going to get me though this. I slowed my mind and tried to ignore my lungs’ demands for air.
I remembered being tossed by a freak set on Oahu’s North Shore. George took me to Pipeline and I almost drowned that day. The force of the wave almost felt like it was alive, holding me down for what felt like forever. I was trapped on the reef, not able to even move against the pressure of the wave slamming down on me. I calmed my mind then and let it pass. Now, I did the same, calming my mind as the sheer pressure of the water kept me under.
Just then, my pendant sprang to life, illuminating the violently churning water. Through a few feet of white foam, I saw the waterfall rising above. I used the last of my strength to pull away from it, letting the current take me where it would. Each stroke was an agony and finally, I broke the surface. Air never tasted so sweet.
Coughing and sputtering, I realized I was in a great pool at the base of a wide waterfall. The current took me to quieter waters, the moon creating arcs of light across a shadowy bay. I heard a giggle and a tiny feminine creature, not much larger than the Menehune, swam right up to me.
Even in the moonlight, I could see her eyes were large and intelligent, her hair was the color of water in a pond. Her skin was pale and reflected the moonlight. She giggled again and dove beneath the water.
She nudged me toward the shoreline, perplexed about why I wouldn’t get going. “Whoa! Wait a minute.” I began to paddle, barely treading water at first, and then reaching out with long strokes. The little nymph ducked and dived under and around me, tittering at her little game. Feeling solid ground, I stood at the edge of the water.
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