Age of Mystics (Saga of Mystics Book 1) (19 page)

Things were falling apart for Miles. As quickly as he had gained some level of authority, it seemed Sensei Fine had turned on him. He was still a leader of the Tigers, but was relegated to managing things, rather than people. He was in charge of stores, he was in charge of housing, and he was in charge of weapon registry. He even had quite a few villagers reporting to him, but the warriors all looked on him as unimportant now. He knew it was Meyer, that prick had somehow turned the Major against him. He needed to figure out how to get back into the inner circle.

Sensei Fine had told him to make a report later that day, and he needed to show his worth, so he was pouring over the hand-written notes he had made and trying to come up with a plan to do something special. This was a hard task when talking about inventories.

One of the villagers poked his head into the tent. “Sensei is calling a meeting.”

Miles grabbed all of his paperwork together and headed out the door. Tardiness could not help his cause. As he walked toward the stage, he saw Meyer with that smug smirk on his fat face. He saw Sensei walk out of the Command tent and made a bee line for his leader, but Fine looked at him and nodded, not stopping for a second before climbing the stairs to address the people. The guards closed rank behind him. It was clear that no one was to be on the stage with him.

Everyone hushed immediately as Fine took the stage. “Friends,” Sensei began with a large smile, “I am so proud of the work you have done. In such a few short days, you have turned a rag tag group of scared people into this...” he pointed out to the crowd with an open hand, “a community of survivors.” Some people cheered. Eric waited a moment for the applause, then continued. “The stubbornness of the former leaders of this outpost notwithstanding, we all know what they have done. We will finally deal with the last of them shortly. But first, let’s talk about the future. If there is one thing our victory has shown us, it is that this base was not made for the new kind of warfare. It is not safe.”

The murmured agreement that spread through the crowd did not surprise Damiano as much as the effect that a true leader had on a large crowd. Eric continued, “It has been more than two weeks since the Event happened, and our lives changed. We must look beyond survival and into being a thriving community. Can we agree on this?” The cheers were louder this time.

“As such, we will be leaving this base in the morning. Our new community site will be the resort up the hill.” He waited, and the assent was exactly what he seemed to be waiting for. The hotel resort in town was one of the best known in the nation, and it made sense as a stronghold. With cliffs at its back, three small lakes for water and fish, streams throughout, a hotel, bungalows,
etc.
all around and the high ground to see any force coming toward them, the resort was an ideal place to defend and had enough housing to support their growing community. Miles also liked it because he finally saw his in; he would be the steward of the goods and services that keep the community thriving. Meyer was too stupid to realize, as Damiano looked over at the smug bastard, that it was the control of goods that would bring power once they moved to a more defensible position.

Eric made a hand motion and some of the warriors went back behind the stage. “I want you all to gather all of the belongings that you can carry and we will move out at first light tomorrow morning, but first, we must deal with the acts of a traitor.”

All eyes turned as the two warriors brought the Old Man back to the stage. Every meal break, he had been brought up to the stage, where a member of his senior staff had been told to confess, and not doing so, they had been either killed or maimed in front of the crowd. At first the crowd did not take well to it, but it was almost entertainment now. Eric Fine knew what he was doing, he was showing power and getting the crowd on his side all at the same time that he was solidifying his power and eliminating a rival. Early on, the General had fought against his captors every time he was brought on stage. But now, with all of his friends dead, it was a sense of resignation that covered the old soldier’s face as he slowly walked up the short stairs.

Eric turned toward his former commander, “General Allan Stone, you stand accused of treason, murder, and the subjugation of the people. Will you confess your crimes, or meet the fate of your senior staff?”

Stone had remained silent and stoic throughout the torture and executions of his senior staff, so everyone expected him to continue. But if they assumed that, they were wrong. They knew it when he cleared his throat. This seemed to surprise even Sensei, who raised his eyebrows as he turned toward the man.

The Old Man began, “Eric, you have won. You have taken my base, and killed my friends and loyal soldiers.” His voice rose as he was clearly trying to win over the crowd. “They call you Sensei, which means Teacher, but you are no teacher. You are a dictator, an overlord. There is an appropriate Japanese term for that as well, Shogun. You have...”

The words stuck in his throat as Eric reached out and clawed his fingers into the man’s neck. If one was close enough to the stage, they could hear the horrible sound of the General’s larynx crushing like a cardboard box. Blood spurted out of his mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp into the arms of the soldiers at his side. General Allan Stone, former base commander of Fort Carson, Colorado, was dead where he stood.

The silence following the quick and deadly motion of their leader was soon disturbed by a whispered word, which became a spoken word and eventually a chant, “Shogun. Shogun! SHOGUN!! SHOGUN!!” The crowd cheered and chanted for their leader and Sensei Eric Fine was no more, he was now Shogun Eric Fine. From that moment on, people simply called him sir or Shogun.

Ted listened to the tale the young boy told of his travels with the mythical bogeyman, the Hermit. At any other time, he would have thought the boy was making stories up. But, their current increase in abilities and the actions of his own family told him not to discount anything the boy said. Cliff Ko related the killing of some dangerous teens, a battle at Fort Carson, the burning of the south of the city, and the looting of jewelry stores. It was the last part that stuck out to him.

“So, you were able to put the powers into these gems?” He asked.

The boy nodded and pulled out a small pouch, explaining the power in each gem and then showing that power. The fear one was the most intriguing, but it was the idea of the possibilities that this could bring that most interested Ted. “Cliff,” he asked softly, “Do you want to join our group? We could use someone with your talent.”

Cliff looked at Ted with wonder. “What talent?” He asked, “I only readied the gems so the Hermit could put his power into them.”

“Your talent has great promise.” Ted began to explain, “You ‘readying’ of the gems means those powers can be used by others. I can think of one that can be used right now, but it is pointless unless you want to spend some time with us.”

The boy looked back in the direction they had come. Ted thought he was looking for the man he called The Hermit, but none of their people had seen any sign of him. Even Nat had not been able to find a trace of his passing. Ted believed there was such a man out there, but it could easily also be the overactive imagination of a pre-teen boy. Either way, Ted didn’t want to leave this boy alone in this world if he could help it. “What about the Hermit?” the boy asked.

“If he shows up, he is welcome in our group as well.” Ted answered.

The boy thought for a moment and stuck out his hand to shake Ted’s. Ted was amused by the seriousness of the young guy, but at the same time, maybe that seriousness is just what the current situation required. “So,” he asked, “are you ready to put that wonderful talent to use for us?” Cliff nodded excitedly and ted called out into the growing darkness of dusk, “Kyle!”

Kyle rushed up to where his uncle and the boy were talking. “Cliff is going to prepare a gem for you,” he said, “I want you to try to attach your light into the gem.”

Jordan was exhausted, but clearly not as exhausted as Emma was. Emma had grown vines thick enough to use as ropes and they had spent the better part of two days getting themselves down about one hundred and fifty feet of sheer cliff face. It was a snail’s pace, it was dangerous, and it was grueling work. In the middle of the night on the second day of their efforts, Jordan felt his foot touchdown on a hard, flat surface. It was dark where clouds, and the cliff’s shadow dulled the moon’s light. Even with their eyes adjusted, they could see nothing.

They rested on the patch of ground they had landed on, as the vines grew around them to give them shelter and if possible, it became even darker. They said nothing to each other, but just fell asleep in each other’s arms, the darkness and noiselessness of their little nest creating the perfect environment for rest. Finally, out of the concrete garden prison in which they had been stranded for a couple of weeks, they would now get to see what had become of this world.

A MONTH BEHIND THEM

“The earliest man crawled from his hunting and gathering existence into his own space and somehow made fire, something only nature had made before.” Dr. Alice Weathers – Introduction to Anthropology and Human Origins

Skirting notice was a monumental task all by itself, but Jordan and Emma had an effective strategy that had kept them safe for the last couple of weeks. After coming down from the Mountain, they had hidden in nests which Emma’s power had created during the day, and only travelled at night. Jordan sat with Emma in his arms, her soft breathing comforting him as he lay there. He had been awake for a little bit, but it was hard to tell what time it was, because it was so dark inside the nests. He guessed it was late afternoon.

Feeling Emma stir let him know he was most likely correct. She had a connection to the plants, and seemed to wake just at the time each day when the sun had gone down. Small, edible fruit of a type Jordan did not know, but whose taste he absolutely loved, grew out of the ceiling part of the nest to sustain them. Emma had grown better and better at using her ability to improve their food and shelter. He didn’t know where he would have been had it not been for her.

The vines began to unravel shortly after they ate in silence. They always remained in silence until they could be sure they were safe. This had become almost a policy after once opening the nest and nearly being caught by a group of soldiers from the base. Since it was relatively close, and because Jordan lived there, they had made a bee-line for Fort Carson as soon as they had come down from the Mountain. What they had found was horrifying.

There had been no people left, though it could not have been long since they left, as there were signs of a recent departure all over the base. Jordan and Emma had searched all over the base for supplies, and had come upon mass graves and burning bodies. The most recent addition to the graves was a man that Jordan knew. The base commander, General Alan Stone’s body was atop one of the mounds, no one had even tried to bury him. While looking at this, they had their first run in with soldiers.

It wasn’t really a run in, as much as a view. They had heard people coming and just got out of sight when some soldiers came into the area and picked up Stone’s body and threw it into the fire pit. They intently listened to the conversation of the men as they rested next to the burning bodies.

“Why do we always have to do the shit duty?” said the first. This was the beginning to almost any conversation about duty in the Army, so it wasn’t too surprising.

The second man replied, “I don’t know. Want to go ask the Shogun for better duty?”

“I didn’t say that. It just seems like the guys from his civilian biz get better treatment, and we always get the shit detail.”

“Yeah.”

“It was wicked how he crushed the Old Man, wasn’t it?”

“Hell, yeah it was. Let’s not talk about it though, gives me the creeps. Let’s finish up here, so we can catch up to the convoy.”

“Alright.”

The two men cleaned up a little, shoveling dirt on top of a few of the mounds, before hastily departing. Emma and Jordan only came out of their hiding place after they were sure they were alone, and Emma finally spoke.

“When they say the Old Man,” she began, “Are they talking about General Stone?”

Jordan nodded, “That was him on top of the mound that they threw into the fire. Did you see the only thing they left?”

Emma shook her head no.

Jordan continued, “They left the firearms. There are firearms lying all around. It is weird, right?”

That experience of weird things continued in the days since they had that experience. They had come to realize that there no longer was a society, and that people were afraid. They had seen people separated into two categories, the cruel and their victims. They had seen all of this from the sidelines. After what they had seen of the that fight when they were still in the garden, and what they deduced from the bodies at the base, they stayed as far as they could from people.

In many ways, Jordan thought to himself, their current existence was no different than being trapped in the garden. They were of course mobile, but they had no contact with anyone else, ever. For a guy like Jordan Kane, that was lonely.

As the vines separated to let them out, and Jordan stretched out in the fading dusk of the west side, he tried to consider where they should go next. Emma had just come out of the nest and was turning toward him when her eyes went wide and she stood perfectly still. Jordan turned slowly, worried that he was going to come face to face with a Mountain Lion or Bear. However, it was a group of soldiers that stood looking right at them. He knew his best option was charm.

“Oh wow, Dr. Pare,” he said, setting the tone and expectation for their encounter, “finally we meet up with some Soldiers.” He hoped she would follow his lead, but she just stood there staring.

“Kane?” a voice from the back said and coming into view was an old friend, the scrounge from their unit in the sand, PFC Anthony Johnson. He reached out for a handshake and the large man pulled him into an embrace, fairly uncharacteristic of the Johnson he knew.

In the embrace, Johnson whispered into his ear, almost imperceptibly, “follow my lead.” Out loud, he turned to his squad, “Guys, this is Specialist Jordan Kane, we were in Shogun’s battalion in the sand.” The men around all seemed to relax a bit and one came forward who didn’t look very military at all and had a gi top with no sleeves on it. “Kane, this is our unit’s Tiger, Vance.”

Jordan stuck his hand out but the man just scowled at him and Johnson corrected him, “No, brother, like this.” Johnson bowed at the waste a low bow. “Always bow lower than he does to show respect.” Jordan followed Johnson’s lead and bowed low. The scowl on the Tiger’s face gave way to a look of dismissiveness.

Jordan pointed to Emma, “this is my friend, Dr. Emma Pare.” The men all pricked up their ears at this, like they had not seen a doctor in some time. Even the Tiger was interested.

Vance spoke, “Alright, let’s take them with us. Shogun Fine will want to meet a doctor.”

Jordan looked to Johnson and was about to ask, “Fine?” but was cut short when Johnson barely shook his head to bring him up short. Johnson turned to the group, and said, “Okay Kane, fall in. You are responsible for your doctor; we are headed back to the compound.”

Jordan and Emma walked in between the men, and he tried to convey to her through only looks that she should just go along. He really hoped she would do so.