The 6th Power (17 page)

I punched in the number. The lock snapped open. The chains fell away. I hesitated for only a moment, then threw the lid off the closest box. Inside was a blinding light that seemed to suck me in and I was…

… back in the nightmare, the one from Mr. Magellan’s house. No, that wasn’t right.
I was home. I was back on the island. It was night. The village had concluded their meal and we were all gathered around for the Sharing Time. The stories were flowing, we were laughing and weeping to the same tales that had been told forever. I was sitting next to my wife, smelling the flowers she had braided into her hair. She was holding our infant son, who had finally fallen asleep, and she looked so beautiful that I could scarcely breathe. Our daughter was sitting in my lap, leaning forward as old Hashaken, my mentor, told the tale of how the spider learned to crawl. It was one of Keena’s favorites, and even though she liked it when I told the story, she loved watching Hashaken scurry up the tree…

Screams. Not human. The earth vibrated. The beasts, the Dead Queen’s hunters, were coming. We jumped up as one, the younger men and women grabbing weapons and running towards the danger. We all knew that they went to their deaths, that they were giving the rest of us time to flee. Not that it would matter.

In all of the chaos, I became separated from my wife. I could not go back and find her, not without sacrificing Keena. So we ran, she and I, the plants whipping at my face. My breath came in sharp gasps and my heart thudded. I tried to draw forth my discipline to give me the strength I needed, but my mind was clouded with fear for my family. My hand started to cramp, but I couldn’t let go of Keena. I pulled her along, not stopping, hoping that my wife and son had made it out safely, knowing that they probably had not. The jungle around us glowed with the light from the stars and the twin moons overhead.

The scream again, the creature crying out with joy as it found our scent. It was right behind us, getting closer with each pounding step. Keena’s hand was yanked from mine. I whirled around and saw her there, so small, lying on the ground, having tripped over a vine. I stopped and turned back…

The thing burst through the brush. The hunter’s green eyes fixed on Keena and it leapt into the air. The story of the lightning catcher came to my mind and I felt the warmth of my discipline. The hair stood up along my arms as I summoned the static in the air around me and launched it at the hunter. 

The lightning bolt struck the monster, but it was too late. The thing landed on its prey. I screamed as my heart exploded. The hunter didn’t even notice me. It didn’t even notice where my lightning left a small, smoking patch on its gray fur-hide. Oh, I will give it something to notice! I focused on the tale of Moran and the Tree Shepherd, preparing to bring the jungle to life, to crush the hunter beneath the tree limbs, to turn it into…

A flash of pain on the back of my head and all went dark. I woke up later in one of our fishing boats. Hashaken was there. He had knocked me out, drug me to the boat and set out for the mainland, using his discipline to speed our passage. At first, all I could do was scream at him for spoiling my vengeance, even though I knew that there was nothing I could have done to the hunter. Hashaken sat there at the tiller, calmly watching me. He was so old, but I knew that he had the power to kill me where I stood. He was my teacher, my master. I was just a boy, not much older than Keena had been, when Hashaken had set me on the path of discipleship. He had used the flowers and herbs that grew on the island to strengthen my memory so that I became one with our stories and could wield the powers and talents of our heroes. He had taught me how to use my discipline to serve my people. He had taught me everything. I didn’t care. I screamed at him until I lost my voice and collapsed in the bottom of the boat.

Sometime later, I felt Hashaken’s hand on my shoulder. “On the first day of your training,” he said, “what did I tell you?”

I knew the answer, but I said nothing.

“I told you,” he continued, “that the path of the disciple is one of great power, but that it also requires great sacrifice.”

“I have given everything,” I growled. “I have given everything I had for the service of our people!”

“Yes, that is true,” said Hashaken, easing himself down by the tiller again. “You have now.”

I turned on him, almost lashing out. “My family? Is that what you mean? I had to give them up for the discipline?” I pulled the small pouch of herbs and flowers off of my belt and threw it at his feet. “If so, you can take the power back!”

“No, my son,” Hashaken said, tears in his eyes. “I do not mean that you had to sacrifice your precious wife and children. I mean that you had to sacrifice your illusion. In your time as a disciple, you have wielded great power to protect and benefit our family. But you held the illusion shared by all of those who wield such power.”

“What illusion is that?” I asked, turning away, not really caring.

“The illusion that having power means that you can save everyone you care about. There are those, my son, who simply cannot be saved.”

We passed the rest of the voyage in silence. When we reached land, Hashaken and I separated. My anger towards him was gone, but we were both still being hunted and there was no sense in making things easier for the Dead Queen. Once the hunters catch your scent, they will not stop until they run you to ground, and they do not let little things like oceans deter them.

I traveled for a long time, mostly in a daze, not allowing myself to think about my family. I took with me the pouch of flowers and herbs from our island home because, even though I no longer needed them to practice my discipline, they still had many uses. I finally reached a city. There were practitioners there of the discipline of movement. They were willing to send me to a place to which even the hunters could not follow. A different realm. A different world.

Their only condition was that I must tell no one of our home. The disciples were worried that the door they opened could swing both ways. I swore a binding oath that I would not speak of the realm of Fallon and, in a flash of white light, I was thrust into this place. A hard place, so much like my own and so very different. It is a world of technology instead of magic, so I hid my discipline. I traveled around the world, learning its ways, until I found a place in which to settle. A small town with a small shop, selling stories that rival those told around our fires, so long ago. And in case the door between worlds can be opened again, I prepared defenses at my home, using the training herbs I brought with me.

Years pass. I have finally found an opportunity to return back to my home. But before I go, I decided to help a new friend, someone who reminds me of me. Someone who has experienced much sorrow from those who have power over him. Someone who has shown a great affinity for the tales of his people. Someone who could walk the path of discipleship. So I placed the last of the training herbs in little blue capsules and I gave young Nate the opportunity to fight back. To free himself. To prove to himself that he is more than just a victim.

“And Nate, you did not disappoint me. Goodbye, my friend. I’ll miss our Wednesdays together.”

Chapter 22

W
ith a push, I was out of Mr. Magellan’s mind and back in the hospital’s gift shop. I whirled around, looking for him, but he was gone.

I stared at the covers of the paperbacks, trying to process everything that I’d seen. One of the books was a fantasy novel. There was a barbarian warrior on the cover, sword raised, about to cut down an evil looking wizard. It looked pretty good. I’d read a lot of books like it, with other worlds and monsters and magic and such. But they were just stories. What I had just experienced was…

If Mr. Magellan had tried to just tell me where he was from or what the pills could really do, no way would I have believed him, despite the nightmare in his backyard, despite everything I’d done that week. But now… I knew that it was true. I had no doubts whatsoever. I had felt it. There really were other worlds out there with people and hunters and…

I shook my head. Okay, all of that was very interesting, and life changing and mind blowing and everything else, but it wasn’t really the point. The point was that, in addition to knowing that the guy who ran the local comic book store was really a refugee from another world called Fallon, I knew without any doubt that when he told me that there were no more pills, it was the absolute truth.

So there would be no healing.

Yeah, I knew that it had been a long shot, but still.

I drifted back to my body. There was a nurse in the room with me, checking my pulse. Her mind tugged at me, but I ignored it and settled back into myself. The pain returned, along with the deadness below my chest. I groaned and opened my eyes. The nurse smiled down at me, patted my arm and pushed something on the box attached to my IV pole.

Warmth spread through me and I fell asleep.

Sometime later, I found myself back in our kitchen. The super-clean kitchen of the day of the purple bubbles, and it was as empty as Mr. Magellan’s shop. I was also standing again.

It took me awhile to shake off the sleep and figure out what was going on. I was in someone else’s mind again. Must have drifted in while I was out. Since I didn’t think anyone who worked at the hospital would arrange their brain to look like our house, I figured that I was inside of family. It was Mom. It just… felt like Mom. Plus, the huge picture of Kiki that she had hanging on the wall was kind of a give-away.

There were much smaller pictures of Dad and the rest of us hanging there, and I could sense memories behind each photo. I shook my head and turned away, getting ready to leave, to jump back into my own body. I didn’t see much point in snooping around. I just wanted to go back to sleep and not think about my future as Chet’s…

I turned and looked back at Chet’s picture hanging on the wall. He had the same grin each year, that grin that said he was trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, blah, blah, blah. I remembered the look he had on his face when he’d come at me in the park, ready to brain me with his baseball bat. He’d had a second opportunity to finish me off in the backyard. But he hadn’t, and I still didn’t know why.

I lifted my picture off of the wall and turned it around. Information flowed into my mind.

Thank goodness Kiki was asleep. I could get some work done. Clean the kitchen, put a load of wash in and maybe I could relax for a few minutes. Finally get those recipes clipped out of that magazine. Hmm. I hadn’t watched my program in a few days. Maybe I could…

I heard someone screaming in the backyard. Robert? What was he doing now? If he woke up the baby, I was going to…

“Mom! Come quick! Nate fell out of the tree!”

I ran out the back door, grabbing the phone on the way. Robert and Chet were both sprawled in the yard. They looked like they’d been horsing around and if this turned out to be some kind of joke…

Then I saw my little boy lying on the ground, his eyes closed, his body twisted. I shrieked and ran to him. I wanted to pick him up and hold him, but I knew that I shouldn’t move him. Instead, I put my hands on his back, trying to feel for a heartbeat, to feel him breathing. His shirt was all torn, his back was ripped up, he felt like he was on fire, oh my poor little baby boy…

With a gasp, I shot back into my own body and opened my eyes. Mom was standing at the door to my room, talking with a doctor in hushed tones. Then I couldn’t see her anymore as my vision got all watery.

My mom, what she had felt when she saw me lying there, it had been almost exactly what Mr. Magellan had felt when he saw his daughter die. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Don’t know why I was surprised. I supposed that I always knew that Mom loved me, despite how she sometimes treated me, but to actually feel it like that…

Nope. Couldn’t go there. If I did, I’d be blubbering all day and not getting anything else done. Instead, I needed to think about what I’d learned, and what I had learned was pretty surprising. Robert had been there in the backyard. He’d called for Mom. But why?

It took a little while to find him. A quick back in Mom’s head told me that Robert was in the cafeteria. I had to bounce around the minds of a few hospital employees before I learned where that was, then I hitched a ride with a nurse on her way to catch some lunch. I saw Robert through her eyes, sitting at a table in the back. He still looked pretty good. Must have figured out how to use shampoo on his own. I also saw that he wasn’t alone. A very pretty girl was sitting across from him, laughing at something he’d just said. Lorelei Davis? Wow. For half a second, I thought about hopping into her head to find out what on earth she saw in my brother, but I quickly decided that that might get mighty gross.

Instead, I jumped into Robert’s mind. It turned out to be a very small place. 

I was sitting on Robert’s bed. Chet kept their bedroom freakishly neat. Everything had a place and everything was always in its place. Robert’s bed was the only part of the room that he had to call his own, and it was a little island of clutter in a sea of order. The sheets were rumpled and smelly. There were candy wrappers tucked under the mattress, and it looked like Robert slept with his CD collection. I sat there, having traded one bed for another, and looked through the CDs until I found one labeled, “Shrimp.” With a sigh, I put my finger in the hole and gave it a spin. There was a flash of light and the memories started to play.

Was in my bed, about to put on some tunes. Meeting Lorelei later, after dinner. She’s so awesome. She had crummy taste in music, but that was okay. We had other things to talk about. Or we didn’t have to talk at all.

Heard a thump in the backyard. Looked out the window and saw something lying beneath the big tree. It was kinda gross. Looked like a person, but his clothes were all ripped and burned away. The skin on his back was bright red, peeling in parts. He looked like… he looked like my brother!