Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  Max bristled. “I can’t just tell you where we’re going. Zander wouldn’t like that. It’s a safe haven for us.”

  “You don’t have to tell us,” Stephen said with a grin. “I’ve already plucked the location from your mind.”

  Before Max could object, the familiar purple mist appeared and disappeared again, taking them with it.

  Chapter 5

  The mist dissipated as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving Stephen, Max, Edge, and Jax standing in a darkened apartment living room with a view of a large river. Edge and Jax walked to the window for a better look. Stephen looked around, confused. This spacious apartment was not where he had expected to land. He had seen this place in Max’s mind, but he intended to direct them to a place he believed was underground and used most often as their meeting place. He sensed he wasn’t the only one confused.

  Edge turned back to Stephen and Max. “Is that Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre?” he asked with a phony accent.

  “It is,” Max replied, glaring at Stephen. “But what I want to know is what you think you’re doing pulling information from my head. You said you trusted me.”

  “I do,” Stephen replied. “I pulled this information from your head when we first met.”

  “Really?” Max asked. “You can pull that much?”

  Jax walked over to her, smiling. “Max, you probably don’t want to know what all he saw in there. Stephen’s lit—the real deal.”

  “So it would seem,” came a voice from across the room.

  The group turned toward a red-haired man wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He stood in the doorway of a bedroom.

  The man spoke with a slight British accent. “You could have given me a chance to get dressed. It’s not even seven yet.”

  Max took her place next to the man. “I didn’t bring them here. I was going to take them to the meeting place.”

  The man smiled. “I know. It’s okay though.” Looking around the room, his gaze stopped on Edge. “Edge Buchanan.” He flipped a switch and the lights came on.

  Edge smiled. “Zander! So this is where you’ve been?”

  “It is. I left Enclave a long time ago.” He motioned to Max. “This bunch needed someone to care for them and help keep them informed. Your Pap had been keeping in touch with me over the years, hoping one day that Outcasts would be accepted back into the fold.”

  “Is that why I’m here?” Stephen asked.

  “Yes and no,” Zander replied. “The David believes you will be the one to win this battle. I’m not so sure. I need to see it for myself. If you indeed are the key to victory, then perhaps you can bring about the changes needed.”

  Jax interjected, “Stephen doesn’t need to convince you he’s a hero. We already know what he’s capable of and what he’s done to fight Fallen and help others.”

  Stephen patted Jax on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Jax. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Zander has been hopeful before, only to have that hope ripped away. Being cautious is his way of protecting his friends.”

  Zander scowled at Stephen. “You’ve been poking around inside my head. I don’t like that.”

  “I don’t care,” Stephen replied. “You do what you must to keep your friends safe. I do the same for my friends.”

  This seemed to relax Zander a bit, but not entirely. Stephen had suspected that the man would understand.

  “So, what is it you want from me?” Stephen asked.

  “Well, you already passed Max’s test, or you wouldn’t be here,” Zander replied.

  Max added, “He barely passed the test. I don’t think he’s as powerful as you were led to believe.”

  “We’ll see,” Zander replied.

  “Zander,” Edge said. “Are you planning a test for Stephen?”

  “He’s not planning,” Stephen interjected. “It’s already begun, from the moment we arrived.”

  Jax and Edge looked at each other and shrugged.

  “What test?” Edge asked.

  “Zander had been expecting us all along. He planted this image inside Max’s head so I would see it. Max is confused because she expected to be somewhere else, a room just off one of the underground tunnels, I think.”

  Stephen looked at Max. “Don’t be confused. We’re here.” He closed his eyes and waved his hand upward and out, as though painting with a broad stroke.

  The surrounding scenery melted away to reveal not only the underground room Max had expected, but an audience of seven people watching from the outside edges of the room.

  Jax gasped. “Oh, snap.”

  Stephen opened his eyes and smiled. “What’s next?”

  “Zander,” Max said. “You used me?”

  “Sorry, Max. If you had known, it would have been too easy for him to see it.” Zander looked to Stephen and motioned around the room. “They are next. These gathered here are the most skeptic of Outcasts. Some were actually cast out. Some chose to leave Enclave. Each is as different as night is from day. The only commonality they share is their deep lack of faith that you are the answer—that you can save all our people.”

  “Why would they doubt?” Stephen asked. “They don’t know me from Adam. Why would any of them be so certain I’m not able to do what’s needed?”

  “Because,” Zander said, “we know your past. It’s hard for them to believe you could accomplish a feat that none of the others could. You’re young with a checkered beginning. Enclave barely accepted you, which is concerning. And,” he continued with a wry grin, “the stories we’ve heard don’t seem quite so impressive.”

  Edge raised his voice. “Stephen saved my life.”

  Jax added, “And he gave me back my powers after my abilities faded.”

  Stephen winced at hearing Jax’s words. Sensing that Jax realized what he had done in revealing this detail, Stephen said nothing, but simply pushed calmness out to his younger and impetuous friend. Everyone—Edge included—stared at Jax. Everyone except Stephen, who continued to look at Zander, listening for thoughts and emotions. He didn’t have to wait long before feeling confusion from the Outcast leader, followed by uncertainty.

  Zander looked at Stephen. “That’s unheard of. Does the council know?”

  Stephen cut his eyes over to Jax, whose posture had fallen. “I don’t believe so.” He glanced around the room. The mood seemed to have shifted from doubtful agitation to curiosity. He hastened to search the emotions. One person against the outer edges felt afraid. Continuing, he went deeper into her mind.

  Prisha was a warrior whose special gift was to see the many possible outcomes and watch them change as circumstances around them changed. Accordingly, she calculated probabilities associated with strategic situations based on available information. The images he saw in Prisha’s mind revealed her cause for fear.

  Stephen pointed to her, locking his gaze on Zander. “She’s not so doubtful of my abilities. Not now, anyways.” Everyone looked to Prisha. “Prisha has been watching the possible outcomes change and grow as we’ve been talking. Jax’s outburst changed what she sees. With each new bit of information, her probabilities and potential outcomes change. When we first arrived, she was extremely doubtful that I am the key to winning the battle. The longer we indulged in Zander’s parlor trick, the more doubtful she became. Since then, there has been a continual shift in her thoughts and opinions.”

  Stephen looked at Zander and smiled. In a mere instant, the mist swallowed Stephen, Edge, and Jax. They now stood in Stephen’s apartment. “Sorry, guys,” he said before either could object. Then he vanished again, leaving them behind.

  Stephen looked at a confused Prisha and grinned. “Did that throw off your calculations?” Then he turned to Zander. “I already know what you have planned. You might as well go ahead and get started.”

  Stephen had already sized up the seven people around the outer edge of the room. He knew Max’s special ability with animals. What he hadn’t dealt with before was her accelerated speed and hand-to-hand fighting ability. Zan
der, though present, would not participate. Stephen looked around the room. Who would be first? Which one was the bravest?

  Max swung at Stephen, connecting firmly with his jaw. He hadn’t expected Max to be first. Still, he wasted no time in ducking underneath the next hook punch and ramming his shoulder into her ribs, sending her across the room and leaving her breathless and stunned.

  One by one, they peeled away from the outer edges and attacked. Warriors, prophets, and a priest all worked one at a time to gain the upper hand against Stephen. One warrior had hands that turned to blades. Another turned invisible. While a third warrior’s flesh seemed to turn to stone.

  Prisha kept her distance, evading nearly every attack, but unable to get close enough to launch one of her own. Her strategic abilities kept her out of harm’s way. But she had little other warrior abilities.

  Stephen swung, connecting not with flesh, but stone. Although it hurt, the force of his strike sent the warrior sailing to the side of the room, taking a couple others out along the way. Eyes looked toward the unconscious chunk of stone, then back to Stephen as he shook his fist. “She’s just unconscious. She’ll be fine,” he assured them.

  A heated blade from a prophet flew by Stephen as he managed to twist out of the way. He felt the sense of terror—Prisha screaming on the inside. He had to act fast.

  STOP. He pushed the word into their minds, sending out a mental wave of energy along with it, which caused everyone to fall to their knees, grasping their heads in their hands.

  He ran to Max, who lay on the ground, staring at the knife he had only just evaded. The blade lay buried deep to the hilt into her breast, close to the heart. Grabbing the hilt forced Stephen to yell out in pain.

  “Ah! The hilt’s hot!”

  A man across the room, the one who threw the blade, tried to stand, but stumbled again. “It won’t cool until I pull it free,” he said.

  Max struggled to breath. The wound had cauterized in an instant. The searing heat, however, continued to damage her internal organs as she went into shock. Blood spilled from her mouth.

  Stephen went into her mind. She was barely conscious, but fully aware of the situation. He linked his mind to hers. This is going to hurt. I hope you trust me. She gave a faint nod.

  Grabbing hold of the hilt, Stephen screamed in pain as he pulled the blade free. The smell of cooking flesh filled his nostrils—his cooking flesh. He tossed the knife at the feet of the prophet who had thrown it and turned back to Max.

  God, help me save her! In the name of Christ, help me save her!

  Stephen placed his hands on her wound and looked into her eyes. Her eyes closed as she gave one last sigh with her remaining breath. The link he had established with her mind had been severed. She was gone.

  Stephen cried out, “God, please.” Upon hearing the thoughts and doubts of everyone in the room, for the first time he realized what he was truly up against. Their doubt was never really focused on Stephen. Instead, this group of seven had begun to doubt God—that He cared for them, or even existed.

  Stephen looked up toward heaven. Now I understand.

  He heard a whisper reply to him, Breathe on her and tell her to sit up.

  “God, in the presence of these witnesses, I thank You for all that You are—a Father to all people who will accept You. And by Your command, Max will live.”

  He leaned over her body and breathed on her, starting at her head and turning toward her feet. A faint shimmer accompanied the air that left his lips and settled on the lifeless body. The cauterized wound closed, leaving behind only a hole in her shirt. Then Stephen said the words, “Max, sit up.”

  Her eyes popped open and she sat up, gasping for air and crying as if a newly born baby. She flailed and grasped at air, where the blade had been moments before. Realizing the blade was gone, she looked down and let her fingers fill the hole and touch her smooth, bare skin.

  Stephen reached his hand forward, offering his assistance. Max hesitated as the stream of tears flowing down her face slowed. Wiping the remaining wetness from her cheeks with his free hand, Stephen smiled and said, “You’re okay.”

  Max threw herself forward and wrapped both her arms around him. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek and backed away, revealing the biggest smile Stephen had seen her give. “Whatever you did, however you did it, thank you.”

  Stephen nodded. “You’re welcome. I couldn’t have done it unless the Almighty wanted me to.”

  Stephen helped her to stand and turned back toward the others, who were watching with eyes wide and mouths slack. Even Zander said nothing, but watched.

  “I know you all doubt me. I don’t blame you. For various reasons, you feel shunned by other Mighty from within Enclave—treated as though you are somehow less than Mighty. Honestly, I don’t know what happened for you to become Outcasts. And it doesn’t matter. I’m here for two reasons. One, because I was asked to come. Two, because it was the right thing to do.

  “I don’t know what you know of the present status of the battle between Mighty and Fallen, but Mighty have been disappearing. Many have become Fallen, swelling their numbers larger than we believed possible. We fear the others are dead or held captive. Enclave may not believe that we need you. But we do. And you need us. This approaching battle will affect us all in the same way.”

  A blue fog filled the room without warning and dissipated the same way. In the middle stood Edge and Jax, in fighting stances, looking from side to side.

  Stephen laughed. “I hope you can forgive me, but you missed the excitement.” He motioned to the others, in a sweeping of his hands. “I think we’re good now, right?”

  ****

  Stephen sat across from Alistair in the small meeting room as Jax and Edge waited outside. Alistair’s arms were crossed, his brow furrowed. Stephen not only read minds, but had gotten pretty good at reading body language. Alistair wasn’t convinced of Stephen’s idea.

  Alistair broke the silence. “All right, mukker. Yer saying that the Outcasts are willing to come back into the fold and be Mighty again?”

  “It’s not that simple. I met with a small group of Outcasts. They don’t have an official organization. They’re scattered. The group I met with are considered leaders, unofficially. They represent maybe a hundred. I’m not sure. People come and go, so it’s hard to say. But they aren’t Fallen . . . but they had lost hope.”

  “They’ll need to follow our rules. I need to meet with them.” Alistair’s frown broke into a smile. “This is good. We can look for others.”

  “Slow down, Alistair. We aren’t there yet. They’ve agreed to help us in the battle. And they’ll help us search for Buchanan. They aren’t ready to come back to Enclave. The Outcasts feel like we’ve let them down—like Enclave and the council have failed them.”

  “Failed them?” Alistair barked. “They broke the rules, not us.”

  “Not all of them. Zander was a council member who never strayed from the rules. His reason for being cast out was asking that Enclave be more lenient in their rules.”

  “He sided with the Outcasts. That’s just as bad,” Alistair snapped.

  Stephen bit his tongue. Every inclination in his body wanted to shout at just how ridiculous Alistair sounded. His cheeks warmed. His skin crawled. Muscles tensed all over his body. But this was Alistair, the easygoing Scotsman. “What’s all this about? This doesn’t sound like you. Or do you not remember defying the council on my behalf when you refused to tell them about me . . . even before I made my choice to serve the Almighty.”

  “Ye know how my gift works, Stephen. It wasn’t about defying the council. It was knowing that my gift showed me the best course of action. So I chose to take that path.”

  “Exactly,” Stephen said as he slapped the table. “Your gift showed you that the best course of action for the future was to defy the council—to do what was right, not what was required by rules or tradition.”

  Alistair leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms again, a
nd looked away. Why was he being so stubborn? Stephen kept his eyes on his friend, making sure that Alistair felt the weight of his stare. Alistair would have to look him in the eye when he gave his decision. He made Stephen wait longer than he was comfortable with.

  Finally, he looked at Stephen and spoke in a quiet but firm voice. “The enemy is at our door, Stephen. Many Mighty have disappeared. Ye know as well as I do that a large number have become Fallen while others are thought captive or worse. They’re stronger than I or any of the council have ever heard of before. Their numbers grow daily. If not already, they’ll outnumber us soon. Even if we win this battle, what will be left of the Mighty?

  “Now ye want me to allow these Outcasts to come in. Ye can’t be one hundred percent certain that they won’t turn on us. If they feel betrayed, that just makes it worse. It would be one thing if they were repentant. Sounds to be me like they’re carryin’ a grudge. I’m sorry, mukker. I truly am. But me answer is no.”

  Stephen stared at Alistair. He wanted to be angry. That would be easiest for him. Instead, he was confused. Alistair wasn’t making sense to him. The argument seemed logical on the surface, but Stephen couldn’t help but feel there was more going on, something illogical.

  “You aren’t going to abide by my answer, are ye?” Alistair asked.

  “I am, but you’re gonna change your answer.” Stephen couldn’t help but grin. He knew something Alistair didn’t.

  “Careful, Stephen. I’m the David, at least for the moment. Ye better not be thinking of mind controlling me.”

  “Nothing like that,” Stephen replied. I need you to come in now. Stephen pushed his thought beyond the door to the men waiting in the hall. “But I find it curious you would think I would still do something like that.”

  The door opened as Edge and Jax entered the room and stood next to Stephen.

  “Tell Edge,” Stephen said. “Tell him how you aren’t going to let the Outcasts help us find Buchanan—the David.”

  Alistair glared at Stephen. “How dare ye? You’ll do anythin’ to get yer way, won’t ye?”