Age of Mystics (Saga of Mystics Book 1) (18 page)

“The Battle of Carson”, people were already calling this slaughter that Eric Fine’s men had visited on the United States Army stationed at Ft. Carson, Colorado. Zane Meyer walked through the open field that would be forever remembered as the site of that name. He stood prouder than he ever had. His group had been instrumental as Sensei Fine’s attack on the base had escalated into all-out battle. Their ranks were now growing as a majority of the living saw their group, called “Tiger Squad”, as the only means to survival. Meyer wished it was only his squad that received the name Tiger, it was so cool. But, Sensei Fine had ordered all of the soldiers and students form his dojo who had fought on his side to use this title after the battle. Fine was the Dragon, they were his Tigers, and the villagers were villagers. Plus, there were new soldiers now. The men who turned to Fine’s side from the base were called soldiers.

Due to his experience, Fine had put Meyer over all of the military men, while Damiano had been relegated to logistics with housing and inventories and the like. While all Tigers carried the same rank, most people began to perceive Meyer as being Sensei’s right hand man. Damiano did not like this, and it made it all the better to Meyer.

Stepping inside a Quonset hut, Meyer looked at the two men guarding the Old Man, General Allan Stone. What a turn of events this was, the Old Man a captive, and Meyer a man of importance.

As Fine had ordered the General be brought to him in the “square”, really a centrally placed parking lot where Fine had set up his command tent and a stage from which to speak to the masses, Meyer nodded for the two Tigers to bring the Old Man and follow.

As they entered the square, they saw that almost all of the population was gathered, probably on Sensei’s orders. There were a couple of thousand people milling about, many eyes on Meyer as he led the former Commanding Officer of this base up on to the recently built stage. During, and shortly after, the Battle of Carson, many of the residents of the base had been killed. This had included both military and civilian. His men had not only not been discouraged from “the spoils of war”, they had almost been ordered to take what they wanted by Sensei. This included property, but also women. Some had fought, and died. Some had run, and were chased down and killed. It was thrilling to think that their original group of nearly thirty had taken down tens of thousands in the battle and its aftermath.

With his hands cuffed behind his back, the Old Man was no threat at all. But, he still had a fire in him, Meyer could see that much himself. Sensei Fine walked out of the command tent with purpose, striding his long stride across the parking lot and up the short stairs to the stage. Turning toward the audience, he spoke in a loud commanding tone.

“Before you today is General Allan Stone, the former Commanding Officer of this base,” Eric began to a stunning silence as the crowd watched on. “He has ordered your rights taken away, your liberties crushed and your lives subject to his whims. He will now confess his crimes or pay the consequences.”

Eric turned and looked at the General, who glared at him but said nothing. Eric smiled at the Old Man, as though he had just played into his hands. “Then let the inquisition begin.”

Eric nodded to him, and Meyer brought up the base Executive Officer, Brigadier General David Pryor. “Mr. Pryor,” Eric started up again, loud enough for all to hear. “You have also been found guilty of crimes against the people.” Pryor just looked around nervously. “Do you have anything to confess?”

General Pryor was a nice guy, Meyer had always liked him, but he knew what needed to be done. “Eric,” the man said in a low tone that only those on stage could hear, “why are you doing this?”

Sensei just looked at him coldly. “No? Then you are judged guilty of these crimes and sentenced to loss of sight.”

The look of horror that crossed Pryor’s face, was nothing in comparison to the look of horror in the audience when Eric reached out with a two finger eye-poke and ripped one of the man’s eyes from its socket and threw it down on the stage. It happened so quickly that it shocked even Zane Meyer, who had seen quite a lot since this whole thing started. Just as Pryor started to scream, Sensei did the exact same thing to the other eye. Markus Pryor now had no eyes.

There were screams in the crowd at the spectacle of General Pryor’s bloody, empty eye sockets while the man was screamed in place as Eric turned to look at the Old Man. “Will you confess your crimes? Or will you watch your entire Senior Staff suffer?”

The Old Man was just staring at the eyes of his Executive Officer laying on the stage at his feet where Eric had thrown them. He said nothing, his shock was complete. This was exactly the effect Sensei had planned for, and Meyer knew it.

“Tigers,” Fine called out, “Take the criminal back to his cell to consider his response. We will gather tomorrow for another sentencing, and every day until they are all punished for their crimes, or you confess yours.”

Stone just looked up at Eric with his mouth wide, but nothing coming out. Meyer motioned to the two Tigers who had brought him and they walked forward and took the Old Man away. Meyer walked up to Sensei.

“Sensei,” he said, bowing, “what would like me to do with Pryor? Should I take him to the infirmary?”

Fine turned on him with disgust on his face, “What good is a blind man to our cause? Take him to the restricted area.”

“Yes, Sensei!” Meyer replied and turned, grabbing Pryor by the arm and dragging him off the stage.

The restricted area was a metaphor, and a reality. It was restricted, but “take this person to the restricted area” meant to kill them. Meyer marched his captive across the lot and off to the area that others were not allowed. Once there, and out of sight, he quickly and quietly snapped the neck of the man. He dropped the body of General David Pryor into the mass grave on top of countless other bodies that were in a constant state of burning. As he looked out at the area, and the six other pits which had become mounds after they had been covered with dirt when they became too full. There were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of bodies out here. This was the other part of their new existence, and Meyer was just happy to be on the side of the strong.

Jenny sat in the little cave she had found, surrounded by her most recent trading trip. She was learning the way of life in this new paradigm, and was reaping the benefit of her “second sight” as she now thought of it. Sometimes she felt like it was manipulative to use it to negotiate for goods, but this was survival and she was determined to use whatever advantage she could to make it. She could tell when people were lying, when they were hiding something, when they were angry, or malicious. Reading their emotions through their auras had been truly handy in the trading aspect of her new life. That usefulness was also training her in the use of the second sight.

There wasn’t a lot of room here, but it was relatively safe. She always searched for auras before going into the bushes, behind which was the entrance to her little cave. It was dark in here, but she didn’t really mind. She had also found that she could see a type of aura in other animals, like when she had almost run into a bear, seen its fear and walked the other way, probably saving her own life.

Deciding to check her goods for the day, she began pulling the items she had traded for out of her bag. Some of it was things she needed, some of it was just good trade that she knew she could obtain more value out of another trading partner. It was mostly food items, with a few valuables thrown in for good measure. As she brushed up against a copper necklace, which most people had passed on due to its lack of intrinsic value, Jenny once again felt the thrum of some kind of energy. Having nothing but time, she reached for the first duffel bag she had brought from the hotel. Inside that bag still sat the strange, gaudy jewelry she had taken from the jewelry store that first night she had escaped her studio.

Jenny sat in a lotus position in the dirt and calmed her mind. When she felt truly centered, she reached out for the copper necklace first. The images came quickly to her – a woman putting it around her neck; a man and a younger version of the same woman pulling that necklace off a small stand at a festival; a person buying a group of the same necklaces; a brown-skinned woman in a factory carving the intricate patterns into the face of the necklace. She opened her eyes.
These are the images of its history!
She thought to herself.

Reaching for one of the three bracelets, it was simply too much, too many jumbled images as she held it in her hands. She went to put it back down and as her hand pulled away, the images slowed.
Maybe I don’t have to touch it.

She reached out again, this time she merely held her hand close to the item, hovering over the top of it and the images slowed – she could see the old couple in dim light in their jewelry store, dim light as the power had gone out; the man pulled the three bracelets out of the case and dropped them, clutching his chest; the old man fell to the floor, right where Jenny had found him in the dark, dying of an apparent heart attack. Jenny opened her eyes, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. It was as though it was her own memory of the incident, as though she had silently watched this happen and the emotion was a lot for her to bear.

She put the item back in the duffel bag, closing off her inner sight so that it would not rush her with images. She would come back to it, she would look into every item she touched at some point, but right now she needed to eat and sleep. As she dozed off, it occurred to her the benefits this new part of her sight would bring to her trading.

The Hermit had allowed Cliff to get closer in recent days. When they walked, the man still walked significantly ahead of the boy. However, six to eight paces were better than the twenty to thirty yards with which they had started. They had been walking around the city for two weeks, literally around the city, going from the north, around the outside east of the city, down to the south by the base, where they had seen the battle at the army base. Then they had turned up the west side of the city, where the Hermit had destroyed that group of soldiers, if they really were soldiers. It wasn’t the first time Cliff had seen his companion annihilate anyone who attacked him, but it was the first time anyone had recognized him. He had taken the time to wonder about that, but he dared not ask the Hermit, nor was the man likely to answer him.

Now, they were back up the North-West side of town, coming up to the Air Force Academy, which simply wasn’t far from where Cliff lived. He began to wonder if his brother had ever come home, and what had become of his father’s body. On their nightly stops, the Hermit had taken to reading Cliff’s D&D books, he seemed particularly fascinated by the Dungeon Master’s Guide (which showed the rules of the game) and the Spell Compendium. Cliff was surprised the man knew how to read, because he clearly didn’t know how to speak. He seemed particularly interested in the info on gems. Whenever he got the chance, Cliff would look at whatever the man read, and a couple of nights before, he figured it out. The man was collecting diamonds, as well as other gems, but mostly diamonds. He was reading about focusing stones in the lore. The Hermit had embedded gems into his staff, he had worn the rings that would fit, but carried and collected all jewels he could. He was focusing the power he exhibited through the stones. For the past two days, Cliff had been working on his understanding of this and had even helped the Hermit to “ready” some stones. When it came down to it, Cliff seemed to finally find some usefulness, he was able to work the gems better than even the Hermit, but he needed the Hermit to imbue them with power. Because of this, after readying them, the Hermit had given Cliff stones with the ability to cause fear, to increase his strength and stamina for the walks, and one for hiding. Cliff had put the stones in the little pouch he used for his dice.

Suddenly, the disheveled man stopped and almost seemed to sniff the air. He turned toward Cliff and pointed to the bushes, a little bit off the road. They sat in the bushes quietly and waited. After a couple of minutes, Cliff heard the sound of people talking. The sound was getting closer. A group of maybe thirty people were slowly walking from the east across an open field between them and the freeway.

Cliff turned toward his new friend and watched the man’s face, riddled with concern. The Hermit pointed at something up the road the other way. Cliff peered through the foliage and saw what the man was pointing at. There was a squad of either cadets or air force guys moving up on a direct course that would have them collide with the group of people walking across the field.

The Hermit rapidly pantomimed some directions to Cliff. He pointed to Cliff, then to the large group, indicating he wanted Cliff to tell them to stop. Then he pointed to himself, seeming to indicate he would go deal with the air force guys. Cliff thought he understood, so he nodded and began to creep his way in the bushes to a turn where he could get across the road without being seen by the military people. He looked behind him and the hermit had already moved out, silently disappearing into the brush in the opposite direction of the way Cliff went.

Cliff snuck around and into bushes on the other side of the road, closer to the large group. He couldn’t see them anymore. It was like they had suddenly all vanished. As he stuck his head out of the bushes to get a better view, he heard a woman’s voice above him say, “Don’t move boy, or I swear to God, I will snap your neck.”

Cliff froze in place. Turning his head to look up, he saw the most beautiful young woman clinging to a tree above him. She leapt down so lightly, he thought he must be looking at an elven goddess. Suddenly coming to his senses, he blurted out, “There are men coming up the road. You have to hide yourself.”

The woman grabbed his shirt and quickly pulled him down into the high grass, where they both crouched for a few moments until the cadets (which is clearly what they were, now that they were close enough for Cliff to identify them) came into view around a corner.

“I am telling you sir,” the one in front said to a man right behind him, “there was somebody here. Right here.” The two were standing right where Cliff and the Hermit had been just moments before.

The officer looked around in all directions, as the rest of his squad also seemed to be doing. “I don’t see anyone now, Morris. Ah, never mind, good eyes.” The officer pointed in the opposite direction and all of them ran back the way they had come.

When enough time had passed, the woman turned Cliff around to face her, those stunning green eyes burrowing into his soul. “Who are you, and who were you with that the cadets are now chasing?”

“I am Cliff Ko,” he sputtered out, “They are chasing after the Hermit.”

The young woman let out a truly delightful laugh. “The Hermit?” she asked, “That is just an urban legend, kid.” She made some kind of hand motion in the air and the other thirty people stood up from their very effective hiding places. “Nice to meet you, Cliff. My name is Natalee Ward, let me take you to my Uncle.”