Book One: Fate
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CHAPTER SEVEN: Lies
“Dad, what are you doing?”
Zan turned to see his son stumbling up the grassy mound he stood upon, a short distance from Samilo. It was still in the early hours of the summer morning. The only other people awake were the fishermen and bakers. Zan would sometimes leave the village and come to train on the mound by the tall tree in one of the fields belonging to Mr. Loson; it was his favorite place to meditate. Relaxing his stance, Zan pointed to the direction of the rising sun. Turning to stare, his son shielded the top of his eyes and looked in awe at the large ball of pure amber light appearing from the surface of the sea. Beams of its light began spreading across the fields, like a giant wave rolling over them, illuminating everything in its path.
Sitting down cross legged under the large tree, Zan called his son over and sat him down beside him. Though still young, Tylor was becoming more aware of the world around him and what went on in, and about, Samilo. He had heard his father moving around in the early hours and followed him out. Looking up to his father’s face, Tylor asked why he came out into the field.
“To see the sunrise, it helps me relax when I meditate. It’s also a chance to practice in peace, but now it seems my curious son has found my hiding place, so I doubt I’ll see much peace from now on,” he smiled.
Giggling, Tylor stood up and paced about before him. Putting his small clenched fist forward, he struck at the air. Asking where he had learned to do that, Tylor explained he had watched him do it. Zan sighed inwardly. Tylor had been aware of his little sparring sessions for a lot longer than he had realized. Though he had left that life behind there may still come a day when he would have to explain to his son about his past and train him for the task laid out. When that day would come he did not know, but for now he could not bare to put such a burden on a small child.
“Now listen to me, Tylor. I do not want you hurting any of your friends by doing things like that, alright?” he said in a soft voice. “This fighting style is not a conventional method used by many people - it is an art rather than a combat style. It requires more skill and training than you would get with any bladed weapon.”
“An art?” his son questioned. “So, you couldn’t fight people using it?”
“Defense and offense, every fighting style must implement these two things. And it is true of this style as well, though it is mainly defensive. I adapted this style from one that was shown to me by a very strong person from the east. Before you arrived I was in one of the few offensive postures of this style, would you like to see it? Though you must promise me you will not show anyone else, Tylor.”
Shaking his hands, his son insisted he would not hurt his friends. Resting a hand on the trunk of the large tree, his father rose up and looked back out towards the sun. Slowly bringing his left foot forward he dug it into the soil in front of him. Twisting the heel of his right foot he stretched it behind him, placing the bulk of his body weight on it. Brining his left arm close to his chest and extending his right, he turned to Tylor.
“This is called taku. It means offensive strike. Why don’t you try it?”
Nodding, Tylor skipped up along beside him and began trying to hold the same position. Complaining that it hurt his feet, his father explained he would get used to it in time and that timing and balance were the keys to mastering the style. He had to learn perfect balance in order to use one foot as a pivot point. Twisting on the spot, his father turned to face his son moving all his body in one motion, apart from his back right foot which slid smoothly around. He then did the same for another direction before dropping his stance and beckoning his son to try. As he started to spin Tylor could not help but laugh. Tripping backwards a couple of steps he fell down onto the grass. Rubbing the back of his head, he laughed again saying that it was hard to do.
“You’ll get used to it don’t worry, but remember this style must never be used to attack unless absolutely necessary. I’ll keep letting you do these exercises with me as long as you do not try to use the style on your friends. They could get seriously hurt and so could you, alright?”
Zan closed his eyes slowly and sighed. He had no choice; sooner or later he had to teach his son to defend himself. He looked down at Tylor again and gazed at his son’s loving smile.
“Sit with me,” Zan said as he seated himself down against the large tree once again.
His son did as he was told and looked back out at the sun in the distance.
“Tylor, I choose to teach you just now because I think you will benefit from being taught this style, but I admit that I am being selfish.”
“What do you mean, dad?” Tylor replied.
“Please remember that you always have a choice, Tylor. Never do what your heart tells you not to. The ‘greater good’ is not always worth the sacrifice - no matter what the costs. Where you go in life is your decision, no one else’s…”
“…Dad?”
People had started to gather in circles around the center of attention on board the Sparda. On the decks above the main floor people peered over balconies to see what was going on. As of yet no sailors had managed to fight their way through the tightly woven crowd massing on the Sparda’s deck. Tylor gazed at Tai. He was like a puppet; there were no sign of real life, just a moving doll with lifeless eyes. Tai seemed to be studying him as well, before standing still once again and looking around them at the passengers watching. Before Tylor could move, Tai was in front of him. Twisting around behind him, Tai wrapped his hand round Tylor’s neck and brought his masked mouth close to his right ear. As he softly spoke words to Tylor he could feel no breath on his neck from Tai’s mouth, the noise of his voice simply happened.
“Do you see what you have done, boy? No one must spread word that I was here; my master demands it, so now all these people will die. You are partly to blame, making a spectacle of yourself trying to attack me… and some of them are children too…”
Growling, Tylor elbowed Tai as hard as he could, but only injured himself by striking a breastplate hidden below the black fabric worn by his attacker. Releasing his grip, Tai allowed Tylor to drop to the floor, gasping for air. Turning to face him again, Tai’s hand was placed over Tylor’s chest. All of a sudden, something struck Tylor’s stomach, something strong and hard, hurtling his body backwards away from Tai. Rolling to a stop and striking the side of the ship he let out a winded cry. Looking back to the dark figure, Tai’s hand was still where it had been. Slowly, he placed it back to his side.
Joel left Karen, who still stood silent and shell shocked, to help Tylor to his feet. He was grasping his stomach and wincing with pain as he slowly rose. Shutting his eyes in pain his anger grew even greater, but at the same time he was bewildered as to how Tai had struck him. It had not seemed like he had moved at all. Pushing Joel aside and telling him to get into the boat with Karen, Tylor took a few steps forward before taking up the taku stance. With the Sparda’s deck being wood it was not the best conditions for it, but it was the only offensive stance his father had taught him - the rest were defensive.
“Ah, the taku stance, so you are not totally without training then. Though I doubt ‘offensive strike’ is the best choice for this situation, boy,” Tai muttered.
While they spoke, the first of the Sparda’s crew had arrived. A sailor walked out and stood directly between the two of them and demanded they stop fighting. On the deck above another sailor appeared. Calling to his friend that he would be right down with help to restrain them, he vanished behind the balcony.
“Boy!” Tai cried, grabbing Tylor’s attention back to him. “Remember that this is all because of you.”
Leaping side ways, Tai grabbed the sailor’s neck and snapped it sideways. A deep cracking sound emitted as the head went loose. Smacking his gauntlets together, Tai rubbed his wrists. People began to panic, women were screaming and all were heading to the far end of the ship, the furthest point away from Tai. Three sailors appeared from the doors which lead up to the above decks and the Sparda’s bridge. In shock from seeing their fallen comrade’s crippled body on the floor before them, they were unprepared as the black eyed assassin attacked them too.
The first sailor met the same fate as the previous as Tai delivered a fatal blow to his neck. Splintered bone appeared through gashes in the skin as the body fell limp. Allowing the body to drop to the floor he turned and raised his hand to Tylor - who was darting towards him. Once again an unknown force struck him down, sending him flying backwards onto the ships floor.
The last two sailors on the deck were joined by more and also the Captain, whom Tylor recognized from when there room was raided. The Captain held a collection of old rusty bronze sword’s below his arm. He passed them round to his surviving comrades. Tai was surrounded by the armed sailors. His arms stayed folded across his chest and he heartily laughed to himself again before bowing before them. Looking past the man directly in front of him, he saw Karen’s white face turn to look at him.
“Yet more people die for you, Karen!” he called over the rabble of the sailor’s angry cries. “Isn’t this the point where you run?”
The group attacked Tai.
Looking over to Joel, who was once again trying to help Tylor to his feet, Karen snapped back to her senses and ran over to help. Tylor was badly hurt and Joel was forced to hold his weight up. He was finding it difficult to move. Karen lifted Tylor’s other arm over her shoulder and the two of them cradled him to the edge of the ship to where the life boat was partly lowered. Helping him into it, Tylor pushed at them crying out he had to stop Tai. Joel joined him in the boat and tried to hold him down, explaining that there was nothing he could do while injured like he was. Karen collected the last of their belongings and tossed them into the boat before leaping over the edge and into the boat with them. As she lowered the boat, via the pulley cable into the swaying sea below, she tried to shut out the cries from above, the cries of the crew dying. They did not stand a chance, not against something like Tai.
He would not die easily.
Touching the rough sea, the boat began to sway with more force and consistency than before. Taking a seat in the direct center of the boat, Karen grasped the oars strapped to either side of the sitting position and began stroking, turning and directing the boat in the direction of the main land shore. Behind them the Sparda grew smaller and smaller, but the cries of sheer horror and pain seemed just as loud. Now it was not just that of the sailors, but of the women and children too.
Joel had stopped trying to force Tylor to lie down. The pain from whatever struck his friend’s chest was enough to keep him lying on the boat floor. He shuddered as the boat bobbed up and down. The cries from the ship were all too familiar to him. They were like Samilo, when people realized who they had lost.
They were cries for the dead.
The last sailor’s corpse dropped to the floor with his own rusted sword impaled through the side of his face. Making a disgusting gurgling sound, blood poured from his gaping face all over the wooden deck below.
Women had taken refuge at the end of the boat and the last remaining male passengers blocking the path to them. The family which had children was also there, hiding amongst the women, the mother was trying desperately to quell her child’s tears. A few had tried to escape to the other life boats, but Tai would not let them. He loomed before them. The blackness of his clothes was absorbing most of the fresh blood, though some remained splattered over his gauntlets, running into the already tainted red cracks and crevices. His hidden face was filled with immense enjoyment as he walked towards his victims. Though unseen to them and to his previous victims, he was smiling all the time. He was savoring each moment, for he had been kept on a leash too long by his master and by the command not to be discovered.
“How pitiful you all are, cowering behind those brave enough to face fate head on. You are not worth killing, but I cannot allow you to spread word about me, so this ship will never reach port,” he said with a sneer. “Fate has passed its judgment on you all. I am its instrument to carry out its wishes. Die, die like the insects you are!”
Turning his gauntlet round in the air before brining it to a halt in front of him, a small purple light appeared in the center of Tai’s palm. From it spread tiny beacons of light, which danced around the parameter of his hand. Turning his fist upside down, he plunged his hand into the decking below him shattering it immediately and filling the decks below with thick purple light. Beams began to erupt through the wood all around them, striking up through the floorboards.
Below one passenger appeared one of the many lights. In awe she watched it, completely mystified and unable to fathom how such a thing was possible. Suddenly, the beam shot up through the floor and traveled the length of the women’s body. Falling backwards, her body split into two halves and hit the floor. All around it was happening to all of the people on board the Sparda and the purple beams were becoming more intense and to difficult to avoid. All were dying.
Through it all, Tai laughed hysterically. His face, illuminated by the purple light, grinned ear to ear. He was ecstatic with delight. It had been a very long time since he had last had so much fun.
The explosion shocked them all and it even brought Tylor back to his senses. He was still lying on the floor of the life boat and was in a lot of pain. The trio looked back over the area of sea they had just covered and watched in horror as the Sparda was suddenly consumed, from what looked like within, by a huge purple beam of light. Large planks of wood had become splinters in seconds while being sent flying in all directions and landing into the sea. They floated on its surface as scrap. The heavier sections of the ship, such as the machinery, had sunk or were incinerated in the blast.
No sooner had the huge purple energy appeared had it gone, disappearing into a small purple glow hovering above the wreckage of the ship and then nothing. The area around the wreckage was once again dark. Even with the remains floating around it no longer looked as though there had ever been a huge ship sitting on the water.
The trio sat in silence. Taking up her seating position in the middle of the boat once more, Karen resumed rowing towards the main land.
“No, wait!” Tylor exclaimed, trying to sit up. “We have to look for survivors.”
“There won’t be any,” Karen replied solemnly.
It pained him to silently admit it was probably true. He sighed, helplessly. Nothing of any considerable size was left over, so it was very unlikely that anyone had survived the blast. Everyone on board the Sparda had to be dead.
The sheer magnitude of the explosion was shocking. Tai had done something, but what that was remained a mystery. In the vision of his father’s murder Tylor saw Tai create a beam of energy from a ball of light in his hand, the same thing could have happened just now to the Sparda. Tai has some sort of unearthly power, it was as clear as day. He had been able to strike Tylor down with tremendous force without even touching him and to blow up a ship with no weapons. They were things no normal man could do.
Lying flat out on the boat and staring up at the clouds passing above gave Tylor time to think - not that he wanted to. Closing his eyes created a collage of images flickering in his minds eye, images of Tai, the dead sailor’s bodies and of the scared children. He shuddered. Death was a concept he could not comprehend. He did not desire to be in the presence of death. The ending of life made him uneasy, but to watch men be struck down in front of his very eyes made it a lot worse.
He remembered the blood distinctly. Blood splattered over the ship deck, seeping through the cracks, dripping from the crushed necks, noses and eyes of Tai’s victims. It was horrible and it had scared him more than he could ever have imagined. Tai committed cold blooded murder right in front of him and made a point of placing part of the blame on him.
People, humans, men and women with families and friends, children with their lives ahead of them, all snatched away because of him. If he had not attempted to confront Tai, if they had just run, no one would have seen him. It was his fault. People died because of him. Placing a shaky hand onto the side of the boat, Tylor pulled himself up and leaned his head over the side of the boat and was sick into the water.
Looking over her shoulder, but continued rowing, Karen glanced at Tylor. She asked if he was ill, but he did not respond. Joel did not look any better, though for him it was probably sea sickness. She became concerned that the injury he had sustained trying to fight Tai was serious. Stopping rowing, she turned and patted him on the back. Double checking he had finished being sick, she pulled his head round back into the boat and lifted his shirt. Over and around the side of Tylor’s chest was a large, dark blue, bruise. Touching it softly, Tylor winced partly from pain and partly from the coldness of her touch. Using her palms to feel round his side, she pressed at points and watched for a reaction from him.
“Nothing is broken, but it’s going to hurt for a while,” she said, before returning to rowing. “Are you sea sick, Tylor?” she questioned, her back now towards him.
“Tai… Tai said those people died because of me, those people… women and children…” he trailed off, once again remembering the faces.
Karen looked off into the distance and sighed, but did not stop rowing. There was nothing she could say to make him feel any better. There were no magic words or words of encouragement. Tai was going to attack them at some point anyway, but that would not offer much comfort to Tylor.
Maybe I’m to blame, I did nothing, she thought.
She cursed under her breath. The overwhelming fear she felt when Tai confronted them could not be controlled. It was a fear that had grown with her from childhood. To her he was a monster, a monster that wanted to hunt and kill her, but not before making her life misery. It might even have been her fault that Tai found Zan. She knew that she should have been the one facing guilt, not Tylor. He was innocent.
I’m a coward.
Joel gripped his stomach hard. Feeling the rocking of the boat each time the sea tapped its edges sent his stomach into somersaults. Watching Tylor be sick did not help either, but trying to think about other things was helping keep his gut in check.
His friend had tried to fight the man he had mentioned back in Wrathe, the man who had murdered Zan. It was the person both of them wanted revenge on. Not only was Tai responsible for Zan’s death, he was also the person who Karen had been running from all these years after what happened to her in Noctern.
I should have helped… but I did nothing. Tylor must hate me, Joel thought.
A realization came over Tylor. Karen and Tai knew one another and that meant that Tai was the one who had killed her parents. He was too caught up in his own guilt and remorse to even think about it, but now casting his mind back, the way Karen reacted confirmed it. She was scared to death of him, meaning the man who killed Zan and the one who killed Karen’s parents was one and the same. That created a lot of questions and there was no answers forthcoming. Karen had never been to Samilo, so why did Tai go there and why did he kill his father? Zan had never been to Noctern, as far as he was aware. There was the odd occasion he did go to the main land, but it was probably no further than Cattra.
“Tylor,” Karen said, grabbing his attention. “It isn’t your fault. It is important that you believe that. Tai is a murdering, heartless, bastard. He would have killed them all anyway and there was nothing we could have done.”
No, I don’t agree, Tylor replied silently. We could have at least tried, but no... We ran away. People died who we could have saved, that makes it our fault.
Choosing not to say that out loud, he contemplated more on how Karen, Tai and his father could be connected. Though she had said that she did not know his father, there still had to be something in common between them both to have such a horrible killer hunting them. It could not be a coincidence that the day Zan died was the same day Karen had reached the unnamed island, but there was something he still could not put his finger on.
“Karen, that man killed my father and your parents. You have told us why he killed your parents, but why did he kill my father?”
She did not turn to face him.
“I…I do not know…” was the quickly stuttered answer.
Perhaps she was in shock at the realization that Tai had killed Tylor’s father as well. Or maybe she was shocked about something else, but either way, it made her very unsettled. He had never stated the cause of his father’s death to her, mostly because he thought he would sound crazy talking about the vivid dream that had shown him Zan’s fate. If Tai was in Samilo on the night of the storm, where he killed Zan that meant he had passed by Wrathe and Coppers. Tylor and Joel did not meet Karen until they reached Coppers, meaning Tai was in front of her, yet Karen made it clear she was running from Tai. Why run to the place he was currently at?
Anguish over the Sparda’s crew and passengers took a back seat in his mind now and conspiracy theories were taking over. Karen’s story had too many holes, too many inconsistencies that did not add up. It made it look like she was lying to them about certain things. Tai was quite obviously after her and she was scared of him, but it was the finer details that did not make sense.
She was a thief. Did that automatically mean lying goes hand in hand with that? Does that mean she is lying to make them do what she wants? Tylor did not have the same sympathetic compassion he had for her moments before. If the Sparda’s crew had died because of them and Karen’s lies, then he would never forgive her.
He moved from side to side in an attempt to sit up. Clutching his side as a shooting pain went up his chest he quickly stopped trying to move and remained still, which seemed to settle it. Looking at Karen’s back he noticed that she seemed to move uncomfortably as she stroked, almost as if she knew he was watching her motions.
Just ask her straight out! Demand to know if she’s lying!
It was easy to think it, but not to say it. It was not the right time. Once on the shore they must plan what to do. The fact of the matter was that they were now essentially stranded on the main land with no way of getting back and without knowing how to get to where his mother lived they still needed Karen with them a little longer. Lies or not they could part ways in the capital, but the connection she had with Tai made it harder. He could try telling her that he wanted to kill Tai and gauge her reaction, but it was made apparent on the Sparda that he did not have the skill. It had come as a shock that Tai seemed to know Zan’s technique and style. His father had said it was a unique style adapted by him, so how did Tai know it?
There are too many problems and not enough solutions. Too many questions and not enough answers.
The boat came to a stop just off the shore of the main land. A beach with dark yellow sand greeted them. Cattra’s port was visible a short distance down the shore. It was almost midday now, judging by the position of the sun in the cloud filled sky. Tugging the boat up the shore line and beaching it in a sand pile, Karen and Joel helped Tylor out of it and onto the sand. Not moving his head, he stroked the sand softly with his hand before picking some up in his palm and letting it fall before him.
So far the main land was normal. It was normal sand and normal water. He smirked as he imagined them docking at a purple sanded coast. Birds flew over head, squawking loudly. They looked very similar to the ones he had seen in Wrathe too. There were plain, normal, everyday Gulls. So far so good, they did not seem so different yet, but then, they had not seen the main lands first town yet.
Cattra looked large. From what he could see from the beach could only have been the dock district section of it. Tall structures, building materials and unloading equipment littered the sky line and, even from the point they sat at, the clanking and general sounds of a working community could be heard.
It was likely that the townspeople saw the tragic fate of the Sparda from the view point they had of the sea. Not knowing what system they had for dealing with sort of thing, he could only guess what they would do about such a catastrophe. Perhaps they would send out a boat to look for survivors. Like Karen had said, however, there was bound to be no one left alive. Thanks to them.
“Let us rest for now, over there should be fine. We can head into Cattra tomorrow. We need to save our money for transport, so we can not go to an inn,” Karen stated.
Joel reminded her that he and Tylor had no more money and that the dried foods and fruits they bought back in Wrathe were not exactly ripe anymore. Karen assured them that she had some money for transport. While they spoke, Tylor did not seem to be paying attention to either of them.
Propping the boat up against the side of an outstretched piece of ground which looked like a miniature cliff edge gave them some shelter should the weather take a turn for the worst. Being so far up the beach would mean they would not have to worry about the tide coming all the way up either. Even if that did happen, on top the mound they sat under it led straight onto some rocks, so they could just move up onto that. Of course, there was no shelter up there though. Sharing out the remaining fruit, Karen and Joel ate. Tylor refused to eat, using the painful bruising on his chest as an excuse. Instead, while they ate, he lay in the sand looking up at the sky, lost in thought.
Am I guilty… am I sad… Why don’t I know how to feel…?
Clutching his side, Tylor stood up and started walking along the beach in the direction opposite to Cattra.
“Where are you going Tylor?” Joel called to him.
Explaining that he just needed some time to himself, he slowly paced along dragging his feet in the sand and kicking at it occasionally. Joel looked back to Karen, who was looking out at the sea. She did not seem to care that Tylor had wandered off.
“Aren’t you going to stop him? It could be dangerous!” he exclaimed.
She shrugged at him and said that there was nothing on the beach that was dangerous. Did she not realize what Tylor must be thinking? It was obvious to him that it was immense guilt. Tylor had been innocent from death until everything started falling apart; the storm, his father, the people murdered by Tai. Tylor was a hero, but even a hero could not be expected to accept all that at once and just move on. Tylor cared. That was what made him a hero and different from Karen. Joel cast his mind back, replaying the few conversations the group had together. Karen never spoke to him with any level of feeling or friendship and probably did not even like him at all. There was no reason to be coy with someone who might hate him.
“Tylor thinks it’s his fault and you’re not doing anything about it! You saw how your story affected him. Are you just going to let him feel like that?”
Tylor’s young friend was able to act like an adult, it seemed. What he had just said to her was of no surprise, her soft story did not affect him as much and he had looked at her with a sense of contempt on more than one occasion. She had no choice to lie to them, but could the kid really have caught on already?
If the stupid boy Tylor insisted on traveling with them had caught on so soon, then Tylor must also already suspect her and her story. Now they had met Tai and that he knew Tai killed her parents too, he must have began picking holes in her story. Maybe now he blamed her for the guilt he felt over what happened on the Sparda. If she had not directed them would they have been on the Sparda and would those people have died? Was Tylor that much of a moralist?
Just like his father…
Standing up, Karen told Joel she would go get Tylor back and that he should try to find some wood and get a fire going for them when they return. Searching through her back pack, she tossed him one of the amber magic spheres and told him to use it. Not waiting for a response, she ran down the beach following the stretched foot prints in the sand.
Tylor had not gone far, though he had left the sand and climbed up onto the rocky area which separated the beach from the land. He sat dangling his legs out over the edge of the rough area, a meter or so up from the sand, peering out at the sea in the distance. Karen sat down next to him. Neither spoke at first. Karen could not, as she had to be sure of what he was thinking. She could not endanger her task by telling him too much. It seemed, however, that he was refusing to be the one to speak first.
“Tylor, I can’t say anything that will stop you feeling guilty. If anyone is to blame, it is me. Tai was after me, not you,” she said slowly.
“Did you know my father?” he replied.
“No.”
“Why did Tai kill my father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you lying to me?”
It appeared that Tylor did suspect her, after all. Though he might be feeling guilty over what happened on the Sparda that did not seem to concern him at that point in time. He was more concerned about whether she had been lying to him. Was it time to come clean? Was it time to reveal to him what was really going on? The decision was not hers to make, word must be sent from the voice and until the moment she is instructed, he must never know. He can hate her, despise and loath her, it did not matter as long as they traveled to the capital together.
Without her as a guide they would end up dead, but it was not that the main land was very dangerous. There was the odd wild animal that attacked people, but it was mainly because of bandits and robbers who preyed on the unknowing. Joel and Tylor did not even wear armor. Something had to be done about that. Tylor still awaited a response to his last question. She reached out with a soft hand to touch his shoulder, but retreated when his gaze turned to her arm.
“No, Tylor. I am not lying to you.”
It was hard to judge whether he really accepted that answer, but at least his interrogation of quick fire questions had halted. Walking back along the rocky path, they headed back to camp.
Joel sat holding the fire sphere in his hand, looking at it in deep thought. Held in his hand, he expected to feel something, some form of power or Aura that would reflect the magical ability of the object in his palm, but there was nothing. The pile of twigs and sticks he had retrieved from the rocky path above sat within a circle of stones before him in a sort of wigwam shape, now all that needed to be done was to light the fire. He was not sure of the proper method of starting a fire; be it with two rocks, a match or a magical amber sphere. It was those facts which lead to him to spreading withered leaves and grass over the twigs as well, in case it was needed as kindling to help increase the fire’s intensity.
Pointing his wrist out, Joel placed the sphere in front of the twigs. Loosening the grip on the sphere, his fingers moved away from the front of the ball. He was not sure if it burned or not and was not willing to risk torching his whole hand. The sphere gently rocked in his hand, being kept in place only by the base of his fingers and thumb. The tips of his other fingers extended off the top, making sure not to touch it. He was shaking ever so slightly.
“…Fire,” he said, sheepishly.
Nothing happened. The ball did not even glow, it only remained its soft, cold, amber color and the twigs before him remained a dull dry brown. He felt embarrassed. Looking down the beach he could not see Karen and Tylor coming back yet, so he still had some time.
“…Fire... fire!” he said, but there was still no reaction. “Damn it!”
He sighed long and hard. Suddenly, something changed and his arm felt strange. The arm holding the sphere quivered. Tightening his grip once again, he stared blankly at his hand and moved it from side to side, trying to feel. The sphere became like an extension of him, he could no longer feel its curves, but could almost hear the flames spark inside his head. Beginning to shake harder, he became very worried and scared. Pointing at the circle before him once again, he commanded the activation word while looking directly at the pile of twigs before him.
“Fire,” he stated.
The amber shaded ball suddenly became alive with a strange bright glow. The bundle of twigs on the ground illuminated with a soft whoosh as the flames rose to an adequate height. Dropping the sphere onto the ground, Joel backed away. Touching the hand that held the sphere with his other, he poked and pinched at it, making sure it felt as it should do. Looking up, he was shocked to see Karen and Tylor, who complemented him on successfully lighting the fire with the magic sphere. Reaching down and taking it from the floor, Karen returned it to her pack, muttering it looked as though it only had one use left. Joel did notice that the glow left behind within it after he used it seemed much smaller than when Karen had used it back on the unnamed island.
“Did it feel strange?” she asked him. “The first time always does. Your body learns to accept it almost instantly, but you mind does not. You will get used to it. It becomes like an extension of your own body. I don’t even notice it anymore.”
What she said had strangely made sense to him. It did feel like the sphere became part of his arm, like it was no longer there and the fire came from his clenched fist. It had left him unsettled and wary of trying to use one again.
Day turned to night and the group prepared for bed. Sheets laid and safe under the shelter of the rocky mound, they slept.
I am in the black room which has no walls, a top, or bottom. It’s been a while since I was last brought here, Tylor thought. I had hoped I would not be cursed with this again.
The usual cue, the usual thick smog, it was all too similar to Tylor now. This was his dreamscape, forever cursed to find himself in the black room which filled with fog and the lone woman’s voice haunting him. There was no escape from this. A few paces in front of him, a circle of light appeared. It made it seem like the ground on which he stood was dirt, not cold stone. Walking over to it and kneeling down, Tylor noticed the ground seemed to be moving. Something was trying to force its way out of the soil.
A flower?
It rose and grew as if in fast forward before his eyes. It went from seed, to blooming flower, to naked stem, to withered skin all in a matter of seconds. Again the room went dark as the weed vanished. Placing his hands out to search the area around him, the dirt and flower were no where to be found. The floor was once again cold and hard, like stone.
A shadow passed by him quickly and silently, at least, it felt like that. It was stroking his shoulder as it walked around him, a cold weak touch. Twisting on the spot he looked around. Where was the cue for the voice to speak to him, to teach him more? Perhaps it was to bestow fear upon him.
You have much on your mind
That voice. Once again it had decided to grace Tylor’s mind with her softly spoken words. Like many times before it was emitting from everywhere, not from within him or from one specific location.
Death is not something that can be controlled. People live and people die. It is inevitable and unavoidable. Why do you mourn?
“It is my fault it happened, those people died because I gave into my anger...” he felt himself cry out.
Tai must not meet with you again for it is too dangerous. You must seek your mother for the truths you hunger for. Find out why Zan died, and do so quickly.
So it seemed that it was an order. Not a suggestion or a hint. It was an order. He had to go to the capital, he had to find his mother and he had to find out the truth. That was fine with him, it was what he wanted. The compassion seemed to have disappeared from the voice, perhaps his meeting with Tai had put a few bumps in the path of an otherwise greatly conceived plan.
There is more which troubles you. Not the deaths he claimed to have taken because of you, but also of the one with you. Doubting those closest to you yet mourning for those you do not know. You are confusing.
He did not know whether to be angry or shocked. The voice seemed to know how he felt and was able to target emotions he was feeling. It was true; he did not believe Karen and thought she was lying to him about something. Though what that something was still remained a mystery.
Do you want to know what she feels? Answer me now, for this is your only chance of this liberty.
This was confirmation that powers were at work. This was proof that it was not a dream; it was more like a vision. The voice, who or whatever it was, had proposed to reveal to him what Karen was thinking, though in how much detail remained unclear. A chance to know what Karen was really like; it was a chance to test the reliability of the vivid voice.
“Show me,” he stated.
What followed was a stream of images, flashing in Tylor’s mind in a collage. Straining his eyes and hurting his head he closed them and held them closed while gripping his head. The images became less blurred. Buildings, people, places, fire, death, blood; he could see them all. What was this he was bearing witness to?
“I… I do not understand… no more, no more of this!”
The pain stopped, his head and eyes no longer ached with the strain of a thousand memories. What had been shown was now gone, but the odd feelings still remained. He did not see places that he knew or had he been to and people he had never met. It was as if he had been shown a glimpse of her thoughts, Karen’s thoughts.
She holds a deep resentment for herself, forever cursed to be alone and hunted by the one known as Tai. Refusing to accept help from those who know her true past, she hides behind a charade to protect herself. However, the mask she wears is easily removed with help and compassion so that she and the Center Point come together to create one.
Once again he did not understand, but listened astutely to every word. There was no way to know that the things he had seen were really how Karen thought, but it made him pity her and created even more questions about the true nature of his meeting her. The connection between them, Tai and his father was not superficial, it had to be important.
“How are my father, Tai and Karen connected?” he demanded.
They are all parts of an important legacy. You too, play a part. In place of your father you must now go. There is no one else, for it is in your blood to become that which you must accept and a task you must complete. You are one of the Destined. You are the Center Point. Your fate is sealed.
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