The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (12 page)

“
You
getting something out of it?” surmised Joaquin matching his friends
grin widen as did his own. “You know, for the hardship of being
separated from the
only
family you have on such a deep-seeded and crucial
family day of thanks.” The sugar in Joaquin’s voice was
deliberately nauseating.

Jason shook his head at
his friend’s antics. “Hell yeah, dude! My dad said with the extra
money I can get the whole Mac set-up I’ve been drooling over – the
computer, iPad, and the new iPhone in one sha-bang!” He could
barely contain his excitement.

“
Damn,
dude, now that’s a good deal,” agreed Joaquin, smiling broadly, his
eyes lighting up with delight.
Getting the
Apple line in one fell swoop? Freakin’ awesome!

They drifted off into
silence, both contemplating the situation, weighing the sacrifice
and the eventual reward.

“
So, is it
cool?”

“
Yeah, I think it’s real
cool.” Joaquin’s eyes were still a million miles away.

“
No,
man, is it
cool
if I stay with you guys for a few days?” chided Jason,
shaking his head in disgust.

Joaquin laughed, feeling a
little lame at not paying attention. “Yeah, man, it’s all good.
We’ll put you up for a few days,” he said as he walked over and
fake punched the smaller boy in the shoulder. “And in the meantime,
you and me could figure out some sort of workout for you to go on
to curb these urges to exercise you’ve suddenly developed inside
you.”

“
Cool, man,
thanks.”

“
Dude, you guys got
anything to eat? I’m starving,” asked Joaquin the subject decided
upon, his mind already upon the next topic – his
stomach.

“
I think
we have some left over Chinese food from
Sun’s
. You want some of that?”
offered Jason after a second or two in
contemplation.

“
Works
for me!” he agreed. His stomach was already growling at the
prospect of chow mien, chung-pow chicken, and all the usual
assortment of dishes Jason and his father typically ordered when
they bought take-out from
Sun’s
restaurant on Figueroa Street in Highland
Park.

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}>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

Linked Portents

Friday, November
19
^th
,
12:36am…

“
Jötuns,
Nixae.”

What did you say? Who was
that?

In complete darkness, it
was many voices spoken at once. Anthony couldn’t discern from which
direction they had come. He turned to his left and then his right,
trying as hard as he could to make the slightest detail in the inky
murk surrounding him. He failed.

“
Jötuns, Nixae,
Isighunds,” the voices came again.

He spun around, whipping
his head back and forth as he did so, turning in a complete circle.
His feet tangled and he fell to the ground. Instinctively, he
braced himself for impact. An instant later, he realized, to his
horror, when he should’ve hit something. He hadn’t. Rather, he
continued to fall, down, deep, faster and faster. A strangled wail
escaped from his lips as his guts twisted and he felt himself
accelerate… and then accelerate even more. Instinctively, he spread
out his arms and legs as far as they could go. A vain attempt to
create as much drag as possible, hoping against hope, he’d slow
down. But, he didn’t.

Still, he fell.

He screamed for all it was
worth, a scream unlike any he had ever uttered in his life… until
he ran out of breath.

Still, he fell…

Then… with bone jarring
force, he smacked into something cold, lifeless, unyielding. Before
he could register anything, a new, more thorough darkness took him
from within. He was lost to it.

*****

Suddenly, he was awake.
His eyes were blinking rapidly, vision blurred, a mind-numbing
headache pounding at his temples. He lay there, bewildered and
uncertain. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. His hand came up
to massage the bridge of his nose and then rub at his aching orbs.
A stab of pain hit him in the back of his neck, making him contort
slightly against the knifing hurt.

“
God
damn it!” was all he could manage. He sat up and put his head
between his knees, steadying his breathing, the air filling and
un-filling him - a rhythm he could use to focus. With time, the
agony subsided to more tolerable levels.
Just breathe, Tony, just breathe,
he
thought, though not without some difficulty. He pretended someone
else was giving him the advice and not himself - someone older and
wiser, who could help him out of this predicament, or at least make
him think straight.

He stayed there, bent
over, hands on either side of his head – a minute passed, then
five, ten, and then a few more.

Finally, he was able to
look up. Instantly, realized he could see, although slightly, but
definitely better than the bewildering ebon of before. He peered
about and, with a surprised jerk, making his whole body spasm, he
realized he was in a cave.
A Cave? What
cave?
He glanced about, unbelieving eyes
seeing rough rock all around. Stalactites hung from the ceiling,
stalagmites protruding from the floor – both sorts, all about
him.

“
How did I get here?” he
said aloud, startled at the volume of echo bouncing back at
him.

Then his eyes locked upon
the source of the light. Again, he was puzzled, trying to figure
out exactly what he was looking at.
What
was it?
He thought back to all the good
books his dad recommended he read,
the
Sword of Shannara
or
the Eye of the World
, and still the
name eluded him. What was the word he was looking for?

Was the
word
…sconces?

A sconce: a forged metal
bracket specifically designed to hold a burning brand or
torch.

Was that what he was
looking at?

Like his sister’s stupid
dog Mugzy, he turned his head to the side in an attempt to
comprehend what he was seeing before he could catch himself.
Anthony let his gaze search more of the chamber, from each
ensconced torch to the next, until he’d made a complete
circuit.

“
Where am I?” he asked,
unsure of what to believe.

“
You are with us, and you
are safe.”

This time it wasn’t many
voices coming from every direction. No, this one was voice and it
was directly behind him. Without thinking, he turned, not certain
of what to expect. What he didn’t expect was to find himself
staring at nothing, but the cavern wall.

“
Well, isn’t that typical?
I feel better already,” he muttered under his breath, apparently
sarcasm was still something he could exude into his speech. “One
voice or a lot of them, it still adds up to the simple fact, I’ve
completely lost it.” He let his eyes wonder another turn about the
cave.

“
You
must listen, youngling, you must listen very carefully, for what we
are about to speak is of upmost importance. There is no time for
games, so I must have I your full attention,”
said the voice. This time it was spoken in his head and
within the cavern simultaneously - echoing, resonating, and spoken
with an accent he’d never heard before.

“
Who are you guys? Why did
you bring me here?” replied the boy, no longer caring if he was
bonkers. He wanted answers. With each passing moment the experience
was beginning to scare him evermore.

“
You
came to us,”
the voice said
quietly,
“after bidding you to come
hither, of course, but still, you managed to come to us of your own
volition, under your own power.”

“
You
gotta be kidding me, dude. I came to
you
?” exclaimed Anthony, already
running through the things that had happened to him a few hours
before.

He had stood up a little
late capturing a fort with his clan. It was supposedly the largest
fort on the continent of Aden in Lineage II - the game he played
with so many of his friends and family. He recalled his mother had
allowed it, because it was the last day of the school week. After
he and his clan-mates had vanquished the inner defenses and
celebrated their victory, he had logged off, his eyes grainy with
the strain of staring at his laptop screen for so long with such
intensity. Then, he’d gone to bed.

To bed… he had gone to bed
in Los Angeles, California. Not in this…this…this god forsaken
cavern! So how did he manage to get here, if he’d come to them? How
could he have…traveled? Unless, this was a dream, could he be
dreaming?

“
Listen, child, you must
hear what we have to tell you.”

“
But, how did I come here
if I went to bed in my house, in Los Angeles? I’m dreaming, right?”
Anthony asked pressing the issue, his was voice insistent, but
fraught with fear.

“
It is
not important,”
came to voice again,
inside and outside of his head.
“Now
Listen.”

“
But –“

“
It is
time, my child, to unlock the potential living within you. It is a
thing we must accomplish posthaste, for time is of the essence, so
focus, young one, and listen –,”
attempted
the voice once more, but Anthony still did not
understand.

“
But, I don’t
–.”

“
If you will not listen,
then we will force you! There is not enough time for us, for you,
to exist in this place, together!”

There was such desperate
ferocity in the tone. Anthony’s train of thought broke. He cocked
his head to the side, grasping at understanding, feeling an eerie
tingling beginning to crawl up his spine and lodge at the very back
of his neck.

“
What do you mean -?” was
all he’d managed to say when the cavern suddenly exploded with
light. A white, searing light, that blinded him, burnt him, pain
lancing through his eyes and into his head. He was unable to
contain it. It flowed freely throughout his body.

Anthony screamed for the
second time - harrowing, from his very marrow. Once more, a wail
unlike any he’d ever uttered before. It came from his
soul.

“
This is the only way. You
are the lynchpin. You must be unlocked. There is no
time…”

Standing, rigid with
agony, unable to raise his hands to his exploding brain, Anthony
seemed to snap, break, and fall. He was a heap, collapsing onto the
ground before he knew what was happening. His head smacked horribly
against the granite of the cavern floor, blood and brains both
squirting from his hideously cracked skull.

He was vanquished in a
moment. All he knew, all he was… died.

*****

Anthony vaulted from his
bed with a blood-curling howl. Instinctively, he reached for his
smashed head, searching, questing, feeling… and
finding…nothing.

He wasn’t
injured.

A god damned dream!
he thought to himself, glancing at the clock
beside his bed. It read: 12:43 am.
Jeez,
man, I have only been asleep for a half-hour!
His thoughts continued with the images, the sensations, of
his dream. They flooded back to him like a mental levy breaking in
his mind.

There was a series of
thunderous thuds sounding outside in the hall, and then upon his
door. A heartbeat later, his father burst into the room like some
deranged firefighter.
“
Tony! Are you ok?”
was his father’s
exclamation as his bedroom door crashed into the wall. The doorknob
imbedded itself into the drywall and on came the lights in what
seemed a millisecond to him.

“
Whoa!” Anthony reacted,
shielding himself from the instant brilliance.