The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (20 page)

“That does make it difficult,” Dr. Brighton said pensively as he stroked his chin. “Clocks are complex machines—gears, cogs, pins, dials, crystals, weights, needles and keys—understanding them is like understanding fate. Like every event in our lives, one affects the other until it results in the foreseen end.”

Suddenly, Dr. Brighton’s eyes opened wide and gleamed with excitement. He then leaned away from the desk and raised his right hand, palm upward. The clock lifted off the desk and rose into the air until it was two feet above the tabletop.

Following the clock on its upward path, Landon’s eyes moved up in their sockets as his head tilted backward. The clock hung there, suspended above their heads, and then in an instant, as if a silent bomb had exploded, the clock burst apart.

To avoid the onslaught of debris and shrapnel, Landon instinctively shut his eyes and turned away, shielding himself, but nothing hit him. He waited a few moments, still unsure if it was safe to lower his guard, but the dead silence made him curious. He cracked his eyelids and looked around, but he never expected what he saw.

The clock itself was nowhere to be seen, but its individual parts were scattered throughout the office. Each component suspended in the air, floating peacefully. Landon rose slowly from his chair to get a better look around. The gears, cogs, pins and crystals were everywhere around him, but seemingly undamaged. Landon looked over to Dr. Brighton, who had also risen to his feet and was walking around his desk. His head moved as he took in each piece of the clock hanging around him.

As he reached out to touch a small gear, he began to speak. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Man has no control over time. It merely passes us by and drives us to our inevitable deaths, yet we fight
so
hard to capture it.” Dr. Brighton continued to saunter around the office as he looked at the parts with a sense of wonderment in his eyes. “It takes every one of these parts, perfectly calibrated, to bottle just the measurement of time. People fight for power, for riches. They build guns and weapons believing those are what makes them invincible, yet none of them realize they are slaves to time. . . . Ah ha!”

Dr. Brighton stopped dead in his tracks. Landon intently watched him, waiting to understand what his professor had seen. Delicately, Dr. Brighton extended his hand into the air and pinched an empty space above him. Landon found himself questioning the sanity of his teacher. After the tips of Dr. Brighton’s index finger and thumb closed around the invisible object, he pulled his hand to his chest, walked back to his seat, and sat down.

Then, looking to fall asleep, Dr. Brighton shut his eyes before raising his head slightly as if he was concentrating on something. Landon watched as all the components of the clock—the dial, the gears, the pins, the needles, even the wooden boards of its frame—pulled in toward an invisible point on the desk. It reminded Landon of stars and planets being drawn into a black hole, but rather than disappearing into a massive circle of darkness, the pieces clinked and clanked until the clock, fully reformed, laid on Dr. Brighton’s desk. The subtle ticking of the working timepiece could be heard again.

Landon sat in awe, his mouth hanging open as he stared in wonderment at the clock.

“That was amazing!” he shouted excitedly.

“Thank you, but I’m more excited that I found the source of the problem.” Dr. Brighton held up his hand, his fingers still pinched together.

“What is it?”

“It’s actually just a speck of sand.” Dr. Brighton shook his head slightly. “It still baffles me that something so trivial can completely throw off the entire system.” The professor released his fingers. Landon watched for the sand to fall onto the tabletop, but it was too small for him to see. “Well, I’m exhausted,” Dr. Brighton continued, sounding spent. “I’ve been at this for hours. I believe it’s time for bed. You should do the same, Landon.”

Dr. Brighton stood up and telekinetically pulled the clock into his arms. Landon followed suit and stood up, waiting to leave the office with his professor.

“Oh, just because I’m curious,” Dr. Brighton started again as he stepped around the desk. “This extracurricular project you’re working on, what’s it about?”

“Oh, I’ve just been researching Artemis. You know, the Greek goddess?”

Dr. Brighton straightened suddenly and turned on his heels. He looked Landon dead in the eyes while he tightly clutched the clock in his hands.

“Where did you hear that name?” he asked sternly.

Landon felt a chill roll down his spine as a wave of awkward energy passed through him. He instantly regreted telling Dr. Brighton the truth.

“I overheard someone in the hallway. Why?” he replied nervously. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not.” Landon watched as Dr. Brighton appeared to relax a bit. “But if you want my opinion, I think you should be spending your nights in bed, resting, not holed up in the Library studying things that aren’t even a part of the curriculum.” Dr. Brighton moved to the door, opened it, and turned to Landon, ushering him to exit into the hallway. “Come on.”

Landon stepped into the hall and watched as his professor turned off his office light and shut the door.

“Good night, sir,” Landon said as he turned to go to his dorm room.

“Good night, Landon, and I hope you’re ready for our session this Saturday. Don’t think because it’s the week before Thanksgiving that I’m going to go easy on you.” Dr. Brighton smiled.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, professor,” Landon returned before continuing back to his room on the fourth floor.

Landon’s mind reeled; he couldn’t shake his professor’s unexpected reaction moments earlier. Dr. Brighton had confirmed Landon’s suspicions—Artemis was important. But why? And it was obvious to him now that continuing his search would be dangerous. Dr. Brighton’s reaction was one Landon had seen in movies and television shows. It was the one the character got when they learned they were looking into something they shouldn’t.

Once he was in bed and about to drift off to sleep, he hoped he’d convinced Dr. Brighton that his search was innocent. Just like those characters in the movies, Landon needed him to believe that it was just natural curiosity, and not the truth that he was searching for.

• • • • •

“Landon, I’m going to apologize now for what I’m planning on doing to you today,” Dr. Brighton said as they walked under their usual training arbor in the Secret Garden. The morning was cold and gloomy. A cold front had rolled in during the night, covering the sky in dark rain clouds. Streaks of blue light cracked across the sky. The stone under Landon’s bare feet felt cold and hard.

“What do you mean?” Landon asked, concerned.

“Well, it’s going to be painful, but I think that by the end of this session, we may uncover the root of your issues. Until you’ve confronted whatever it is that’s holding you back, I don’t think these sessions will move beyond what we’ve already accomplished.”

“I’ve tried, but I don’t know what the problem is,” Landon replied, desperately attempting to convince his professor not to cancel their sessions in the garden. He needed them. It was the one place he’d seen improvement in his abilities. If Dr. Brighton ended them, Landon was sure he’d be kicked out of the Gymnasium in no time.

“You see, that’s what I was afraid of,” Dr. Brighton said as he pulled off his coat and move to the edge of the creek.

Dr. Brighton raised his right arm, and out of the creek a group of small, smooth river stones floated into the air and began to hover above his outstretched hand. He looked menacing, and Landon was stricken with a paralyzing fear of what was to come next.

“I’m going to try something a bit unorthodox, but the concept is simple. All you have to do is stop the stone before it hits you,” Dr. Brighton said. “You stop them, the exercise is over and we move on with your training. If you don’t . . . then I hope you have a high tolerance for pain.”

Without warning, one of the stones orbiting above Dr. Brighton’s fingers bolted across the training ground and collided with Landon’s rib. The pain seared through his body, forcing out a guttural groan, but Landon became determined to prove himself to his mentor.
I’ve done this before
, he told himself. He’d stopped the books Brock threw at him in the Library. He’d only done it once, but . . .
I’ve done this before
.

He widened his stance, elongated his back and stretched out his hand, intent on stopping the next stone before it rocketed into his body.

Before he could blink, another rock flew through the air and blasted him in the stomach. Landon held firm. The impact made his entire body constrict as the pain surged through him, but he remained strong and unmoved.

Stones three and four made contact with Landon’s body with as much ease as the first two. With every stone, the pain became more and more unbearable. Landon’s face winced with discomfort, and his eyes welled up with tears, but he continued to grit his teeth, resolute to stop the next.

Soon Dr. Brighton started to ask Landon questions before sending the next stone toward him.

“What’s stopping you, Landon?” he yelled over the thunder.

Whack!

“I don’t know!” Landon had spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out what caused the issues with his abilities. He knew there was something, but he could never pinpoint it. He’d tried everything—every bit of advice, every technique—no matter how strange—but nothing solved his problem. It was like a monster in his closet. He knew it was there, but it stayed hidden in the darkness, frightening but undeterminable.

“Yes, you do! Why are you holding back?”

The next river rock shot across the arbor. Landon watched it in slow motion as it came closer and closer. With every fiber of his being, he tried to muster his abilities and stop it.

Thump!

“I don’t know!” Each word became more and more forced as Landon attempted to fight back the pain, but some new sensation was beginning to build up in his abdomen. It was a sort of internal heat, a burning fire at his core. It felt strange, and Landon was afraid of it. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

“What’s stopping you?” Dr. Brighton asked again.

Poom!

“I don’t know!” Landon screamed. With every stone, the heat in his belly became more intense; he started to feel like he was getting ready to vomit.

Dr. Brighton stood across the arbor with new rocks from the creek floating out of the water to his hand. Landon was becoming noticeably more defeated. Soon he wouldn’t have the energy to continue.

Even with Landon’s looming failure, Dr. Brighton’s militant demeanor never changed. “Why are you holding back?”

“I deserve this,” Landon whispered inaudibly before his mentor sent the next rock. He wasn’t sure where the feeling came from. It was uninhibited and unexpected—a Freudian slip—but once he heard himself say it, he knew he believed it.

“I told you, all you have to do is stop one of them and we’re finished,” Dr. Brighton said. “Now, why are you holding back?”

The next stone collided with Landon’s left rib. The force toppled him over to the ground. Rain began to pour from the sky, soaking Landon and Dr. Brighton within seconds.

“Stand up, Landon!” Dr. Brighton commanded.

“Please.” His words were barely audible.

“Stand up!” Dr. Brighton’s voice, deep and imposing, resounded over the continuous rumbles of the rain and thunder. A sadistic passion burned in the back of his eyes. He knew he was getting close.

Landon staggered to his feet but remained hunched over in pain. He made himself straighten up and raise his arm toward his professor, biting back the agony that coursed through his body.

“Why are you holding back?” Dr. Brighton asked again.

Landon didn’t even answer, but just stood as tall as he could and choked down the fiery sensation that was beginning to spread through his body.

A stone blasted into his left shoulder. Landon stumbled backward, but he was able to keep his feet and remain upright. He limply held his arm in front of him.

“Why are you holding back?”

A rock collided with Landon’s abdomen again, forcing him to collapse onto his hands and knees. Amid the pain, he could feel the internal fire raging up inside him; his powerful psychokinetic abilities were moments away from breaking out of the cage he’d unknowingly built around them. The last time he’d felt that way was during his apocratusis. Landon feared what might happen next if Dr. Brighton hit him with one more stone.

“Stop! Please! I can’t control it!” Landon screamed through the agony. He clenched his jaw hoping to stave off the force he felt building up inside of him. “I can’t control it,” he forced out.

Dr. Brighton let the stones in the air fall to the ground and bolted over to Landon’s hunched body.

“Look at me,” he requested. He put his hands on both sides of Landon’s face and forced his head to look up at his. “Landon, this is what we’ve been looking for. What can’t you control?” Dr. Brighton waited for a response but got none. “What can’t you control?” he repeated more forcefully.

“Myself,” Landon answered. “If you don’t stop, I’ll kill you . . . like her.” He dropped his head down between his shoulders. Tears flowed from his eyes and mixed with the streams of rainwater that ran down his face. It was the first time he’d ever said it out loud. “I killed her,” he sobbed.