I wake up sometime later enveloped in darkness. I feel damp, cold stone against my skin. The pain from my head screams at me like never before. The beating that must have followed my act of boldness was atrocious enough to leave me without memory of it, but I definitely feel its aftermath. The fact that Apollo got away is probably the only thing that keeps my blood pumping. I want to contact him but I'm much too weak, and by now, he probably knows about Sabrina so I know he's crushed. I just hope he keeps his wits about him. My intuition tells me he will. I have the greatest confidence in his abilities as well as my plan.

  I hear the sound of a door opening but I still can't see anything. A voice pierces the gloom, "He has taken up residence in your mansion Oriah. I was left in charge of your, well-being." Although I can't see I can't mistaken his voice after all these years. "Vitus, how kind of you, but how easily you forget. I was sure you would have guided him away from this futile quest. It will surely lead to his ruin."

  "I know old friend, in fact, I'm counting on it." I feel an arm underneath mine, lifting me to my feet, but I stumble back down to the floor as pain rages from my right leg. "Your leg is broken, let me help you to the cot." I try to argue with him that I'm not helpless, "Well if you would just turn on a light, I could find my own way." Then Vitus' reply mystifies my logic, "The lights are on, Oriah. I'm afraid my nephew's creatures rob you of your sight."

  This was definitely not part of the plan, I think to myself. I'm still lost as to what caused this divergence. I feel Vitus lift me again but this time we reach the cot. I roll over onto my back, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. Then Vitus says something that could have surprised me if I wasn't already expecting it.

  "So what kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve, Oriah? My memory isn't as defective as you would like to believe. I know you've got some sort of plan."

  I remain silent. I don't know if I can trust him or not yet, but I know he shares my disdain for his nephew. Vitus has his own family; namely two sons, and I know he is as power-hungry as any member of his kin. It is my belief that is what motivates him, so I must make my moves carefully.

  Then Vitus speaks again, "I will bring back something for your pain. Don't bother using your telepathy Oriah, it won't penetrate these walls. Brutalius specifically designed this cell just for you. I also just got word they just brought in your son, and they plan to execute him tomorrow; along with Nathan. Brutalius doesn't know he is your child yet, so I can try to delay his sentence."

  I hear the door slam shut and the bolt lock in place. Any optimism I had before, just died at the sound of what I was just told. Apollo. I try to reach out to him but there's no use. Between the walls of my prison and the fragility of my condition, I can't even hold on to a thought. I lie on the cot drenched in my own sweat, tears and blood. Hopelessness and failure consume me. I hear the door open again and I feel a small jab of pain in my arm as an injection flows into my veins. After just seconds, my pain dulls and I feel my hold on reality slip into lassitude.

  Chapter Ten

  The Rising Son

  The sun is halfway up and it's clear we're heading toward a large forest. What is also apparent is that it will probably take days to reach it. We're mostly surrounded by flat, barren land. We pass a few trees and bushes on our route, and that's only a signs to let you know there's any life out here at all. The forest has to be the nearest water source and we will desperately some in a couple of days.

  Suddenly, a distant rumble breaks the silence as we both stop and stare at one another. I focus in on the sound, trying to detect if it's growing in volume when Grace points to the west. I follow her finger with my eyes and see a distant glimmering object racing north along the horizon, leaving a wisp of dust in its wake. It's a Corsair patrol. Grace grabs my arm, I can hear the uncertainty in her voice, "You think they're looking for us?" I place my hand on top of hers, "Maybe, we need to get to the forest. I've got a plan." I didn't exactly lie to her. I know what I must do. I'm just not sure how to do it yet, but the answer is in this book. I can feel it.

  We walk for more hours, but the dull green canopy of distant trees has still barely grown in the distance. My hope is starting to waver and I question if we will ever reach it. I look over at Grace. She looks exhausted, but returns my gaze with a exerted smile. "I think we need to take a break." She nod in agreement and we find a nearby tree. I search through the packs and find some canteens. Their lack of weight makes my heart sink, and I look at Grace in disgust tossing her one of the bottles. She feels it in her hand, turning it over and over, like she is thinking about something. She looks up at me, "What exactly did you do back there when you rescued me?" I try my best to explain what my father taught me, and the sheer logic of her response delightfully surprises me. "Well, if you can make ice appear out of thin air, why can't you do the same thing and fill these canteens?" I raise an eyebrow at her and laugh gleefully pulling her into a tight embrace. I revel at the now obvious solution, "I guess I could try."

  Standing back, I hold a canteen in my hands. I screw the lid off and let it hang by the chain that attaches it to the bottle. The effort it takes to induce the molecules to come together in it feels so small it seems like magic. In a matter of seconds, the now full canteen feels ice cold in my hand. I hand it to Grace, take hers and do the same. Soon we're sitting under the tree, taking in generous sips of the refreshing liquid. Grace grab's a couple granola bars from our rations, and we eat as I flip through the textbook.

  I immediately stop skimming when I run across a word that fires off an army of ideas in my mind. My heart swells as I think of the possibilities of my strategy. I think maybe I am truly my father's son, as I feel the pieces fit together in my mind. A feeling of assurance rises in me, convincing me it will work, "I think we should stay here for a while, and regain some strength. I need to study up on something." I run my fingers across the letters of the word that lights up in my mind; combustion.

  After memorizing the details I need. I make sure all the other pieces are in place before I try my next trick. We find a few fallen branches and build a makeshift pyre. I focus in on one stick at a time, trying to persuade the water to boil out of each one. I get the timing just right for the required thermal reaction and a single flame erupts on the end of one of the branches. We watch as it grows to the other pieces of wood.

  I feel the apprehension in Grace's heart before I heard it in her voice. "Won't this attract one of the patrols, Apollo?" I answer with poise and I think it startles her a little. "Yes, I'm counting on it." She grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly as we stand in front of the now raging fire. We take turns adding more kindling, waiting for the unfortunate souls who decide to investigate.

  As expected, not even a half hour passed before we see two trucks rapidly approaching. When they get close, maybe fifty meters away, Grace turns to run. I grab her by the arm and try to steady her, "Don't." I release my hold and walk out to meet the coming party. I hold my open palm out to the first truck, willingly this time, and as I hold images of the hydrocarbons in its gasoline in my psyche I encourage the energy of the campfire to find its way to the fuel cell. I clench my fist and the flames of the fire behind me instantly die as the vehicle in front simultaneously detonates in a deafening explosion leaving nothing behind but a burning mass of mangled metal. As everything around us rocks from the powerful blast, the other truck abruptly stops and two soldiers fall out into defensive positions.

  I hear Grace gasp as they target me with their pistols. I hold my hands up over my head and slowly step toward the two men. I calmly speak as I continue my approach. "It won't do you any good." Then I hear a click from the one to my left as he squeezes the trigger on his weapon. Then I hear several more clicks coming from both men this time, but still nothing happens. What no one else realizes is when I channeled the potential of the campfire to the fuel of the truck, I also altered the chemical composition of the gunpowder in the ammunition in their weapons; to all weapons.

  I laugh out loud
as one of them looks at their gun trying to plead with it to work. I concentrate on the electrons in its metal, reconfiguring their polarity. I command the gun to fly from his grasp and in my direction. I snatch the weapon from the air, reversing its momentum in an instant, and forcefully launch it back at the man's face. It hits home and the guard nearly flips completely and lands back on his already smashed face. The other soldier makes a run at me, and tackles me to the ground. His weight pins me to the earth and both of his hands clasp around my throat. As I claw at his fingers, I begin to see flashes of light shoot across my gradually blurring vision. I hear Grace scream and I can just make out her behind the man pounding on the his back with her fists. He releases his grasp on me and turns to lunge at her. I panic and then like before, the warmth grows within me yet again. I notice this time it seems more natural, instinctive, more integrating with my soul. I feel calm and focused this time as the icy blade grows from my fist and I send it through the man's side. He drops to the ground and I walk over to where the first man fell patiently waiting for him to wake up.

  "The rest of your group is dead," are the words he wakes up to. I want to make it clear that he has no other option than to remain here and listen to what I have to tell him. The pain surging through his face apparently is enough reason because he just silently sits there and holds a hand to his bleeding nose.

  "The only reason you live is because you're going to deliver something for me. You tell Brutalius to enjoy my father's chair because I'm coming to reclaim it. Now get up!" The man stumbles trying to reach his feet so I grab his arm, jerking him to a standing position. "You also tell him if anything happens to anymore of my people or my family, I'll save him for last and make him suffer." I finish by mentally instructing the battered, bloody soldier to immediately walk to the Acropolis and find his leader. With a zombie-like posture he turns, taking slow and deliberate steps towards Alcazar to repeat my communication.

  I notice that Grace has remained eerily quiet throughout the whole ordeal. I see the shocked expression on her face as I go to console her but she moves away, "Please, it's okay Grace. I swear to you we're going to get our city back." She just nods. I plead with her, "We need to get going. We'll take the truck. It's time we rescue our families." What she says to me next, riddles me with regret over my last comment, "It's too late for me, Apollo. My family's gone. The Corsair killed them."

  She mourns openly now rushing to me, clutching fistfuls of my shirt as she sobs. My tears fall with hers as all I can do is listen to her cry. I should have already known about her family, and I should have paid more attention to my father. Understanding him now more and ever, I try to reach out to him telepathically but I don't feel anything. My biggest fear haunts me that he's already dead and I'm really on my own.

  Chapter Eleven

  Messages

  Antonia sits on her bed waiting in the apartment she's called home for the last three years. Her dark-brown canvas backpack trembles in her lap as she nervously waits for her boyfriend, Paulus, to come and rescue her from the inevitable punishment that surely waits. She still doesn't know what happened. Just two days ago, she was a promising young officer, rapidly rising in the ranks of the Corsair. Even Brutalius had recently let her in his inner circle. And now, she has betrayed him.

  At least that's what they told her. The last thing she remembers is updating the Corsair leader on the spread of the blackout-worm being installed on Alcazar's computers. She also recalls beginning diagnostics on attack programs for the assault shortly thereafter, but then that's it. The next thing she knows is waking up at home this morning, in this very bed, to the sound of officers knocking on her door. Their message was terrifying. It was full of accusations of treason and aiding the enemy. The only reason she's even still alive is because of her relationship with the younger son of Vitus Kaine. Her request to speak to him was the only thing that delayed her arrest. Justice is swift here and time is running out fast. I've probably only have an hour, she thinks to herself.

  The doors swings open and in walks her savior. Tall, lean and muscular, he is bigger than his older brother and more handsome too. He dismisses the guard outside and shuts the door behind him. Antonia stands to embrace her hero, "I'm glad you're finally here, what did you find out? What exactly do they think I did?" His thick brow tilts upward in a stern look as he takes her hand, "We don't have time. We have to get you out of here, now."

  "But if they catch us Paulus, your father will disown you, not to mention we'll both die."

  "That's why we can't waste anymore time. I'm not worried about my father at the moment, my only concern is you. It's clear something's not right. We just have to be careful. You packed everything you need?"

  "Yes, but the only thing I need is you."

  Smiling, he takes her face in his hands, and they kiss passionately before going outside. "There was a big uproar in Alcazar today, some crazy, freaked out soldier came walking through, demanding to speak to Brutalius. He kept mumbling something about a message and someone named Apollo, you know, like the sun god? Does any of that ring a bell?"

  Antonia shakes her head, but inside, she knows that's not true. Apollo. The word hovers oddly in her thoughts. She's almost certain she's heard of the person before, although she can't recall anyone by that name. As they climb on Paulus' motorcycle, he turns to her, "I'll explain everything better, once we get outside the Boundary. Don't worry; they won't touch you as long as you're with me." He kicks the bike to life, piercing the air with a deafening rumble. A dusty trail follows them as they speed off away from their home, and toward the southeast.

  ~

  A black, military-looking truck accelerates across the dry soil in a swirl of dust. The ride is much smoother now since Apollo's gotten the hang of driving. It's a good thing there are not a lot of things to crash into. Grace looks over at him as he steers the truck they stole from a Corsair patrol. Apollo fought them, killing one and sparing the other in order to deliver a message to Brutalius Kaine. They've been traveling for a little over an hour and the forest seems closer now than ever. Its relative shelter and safety will provide much needed rest, giving them time to put the final touches on a plan to rescue Apollo's uncle and brother, and hopefully liberate their city.

  "What happened to Oriah?" Grace's question makes him cringe at the memory of his father getting mauled by a mutant bear and captured. "We got attacked, but he didn't make it. You know, I think he sacrificed himself for me." Apollo suddenly slams on the brakes, causing Grace to lunge from her seat. Before she can protest, he is out of the truck, staring back towards Alcazar, he wipes a tear from his left cheek. "I fear the worst, Grace. I can't feel him. We could communicate telepathically, him and me, and I'm sure if he was alive he would reach me."

  Apollo bends down, picks up a fist-sized stone and throws it. The rock leaves his hand with a much greater force than he seemed to have used. It moves with such velocity, it vanishes in an instant, following the curvature of the earth into the horizon. Grace stands up with surprise; her upper body protrudes through the open roof of the vehicle as she gapes at the awesome spectacle. She tries to reassure her close friend with something she believes is definitely a possibility, "Maybe he's alive, Apollo, he just can't talk right now."

  "I hope you're right, but either way, we have to go back."

  And just as soon as their words fade into the wind, something comes screaming through the sky. It's wailing whistle sounds like an incoming artillery shell. And in a loud, crisp and tight snap, the returning stone powerfully collides with Apollo's open palm, like a catcher's mitt snagging a fastball. Grace quickly ducks back through the opening and rolls from the truck. She runs to him with astonishment. Smoke smolders from Apollo's clenched fist, and blood trickles down his forearm. She shrieks as he opens his hand and they both examine the blood-dripping rock. "Oh my Goodness! Are you okay? What was that?" His unharmed hand makes it apparent that it's not Apollo's blood, and that only adds to Grace's mounting confusion.

&nb
sp; "I don't know what's going on anymore. You're starting to scare me, Apollo."

  He doesn't look her way, he just maintains his gaze in the direction of his enemies, answering her in a somber tone. "Brutalius got his message, and now his search for us will surely intensify. Let's get out of here."

  But she doesn't budge, "No, you're going to have to tell me what happened." He turns to look at her and is shocked by the uncertainty in her eyes. He holds out his other hand, "I swear Grace, once we get there, I will tell you everything. Please, will you trust me?"

  She still doesn't make a move.

  Tears well in her eyes, as she notices the defeated look on his face. With his open hand still reaching for her, he pleads, "You know what's in my heart, I can't do this without you.”

  She finally steps to him, rushing into his arms. He gently takes her face in both hands, and moves it back from his chest. With his forehead against hers, he gazes into her eyes, "I won't let them hurt you, I swear it." Dust churns around them as the wind eerily howls, seeming to mimic the destitute and loneliness of their circumstances. For a moment, they stand amidst the bleakness, holding onto each other because they know it's all they have left. Apollo finally takes her hand and they go back to the truck and resume their journey toward the protection of the large swathe of trees.

 
AP West's Novels