Warrior from the Shadowland (19 page)

“They’re
sick.  Their energy’s weak.  They can’t stop us.”  Nia smiled, grimly.  “Nobody
hurts my baby cousin –the Queen of the Water House-- and then gets to share my
Element.”

“It’s
dangerous.”  Tharsis reminded her.  “If we go down, we leave Ty unprotected.”

“If
we don’t do something, they’ll get her anyway.”  Nia’s eyes narrowed.  “If
Parald could do this, then so can we.”

“He
had Gion!”  Cross roared.  Gion was five hundred years old and one of the most
powerful Phases alive.

Tharsis
might have pointed that out himself, except Nia launched her attack.

Right
then, Cross saw exactly what Job meant about Nia.  Why the oldest Elemental in
the universe still got swept under by the force of her will.  Nia wouldn’t give
up or back down. 
Ever
.  She’d keep going, even when the odds were
stacked so high against her that the fans began leaving the stadium for the
drive home.

And
she’d
win
.

Standing
in Nia’s memory, surrounded by death and panic, Cross laughed for the first
time in forever.  He couldn’t help it.  His Match was so damn beautiful and
stubborn.

And
she was about to kick ass.

Using
Tharsis’s power as well as her own, Nia ripped the weight of the Water away
from the mob.  She did it fast and painful, like tearing off a bandage.  The
other Phases all had the Fall, so most of their grips on the Water were frail. 
Still, it was an incredibly difficult maneuver and she executed it
brilliantly.  Gion had nothing on Nia in that moment.  Cross could feel the power
she needed to pull the weight of the House free.  It landed on Nia, Tharsis and
Ty with enough force that Nia hit the ground.  She lay there, dazed, as the
mob’s screaming reached new heights.

Hands
beat on the wall of ice.

Voices
begging Nia to stop.

Threats
against her.

Prayers
to Gaia.

Crying.

Coughing.

Cross
crouched down next to his Match, shocked by the strength in her.  Even sharing
the load with Tharsis and Ty, the pressure of the Water must’ve been hard to
balance so suddenly.  He knew from experience.  He’d never been prouder of
anyone in his life.  She was amazing.  “I love you, baby.”  He whispered.  The
feelings were so clear that they filled his heart and soul.

Tharsis
stayed on his feet, breathing hard.  His turquoise gaze glowed with triumph. 
Cross felt him expending a great rush of energy, sucking up the Water like a
sponge.  It was a reverse tsunami of power, the Water all pulling back towards
him.  Cross knew, without even looking, that Tharsis had just evaporated every
drop of drinkable liquid in the Water Kingdom.  The land blessed with
bottomless crystal pools and fresh running streams was now bone dry.

It
was the drought to end all droughts.

It
had happened in less than ten seconds.

And
the Phases outside couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Thar.” 
Nia said weakly, still recovering.  “You’ll kill them without water.”

“The
plague
will kill them.”  Tharsis corrected, without an ounce of pity. 
“They’ll just die thirsty.”  He marched back over to the bed and sat down next
to Ty’s still form.

Wow. 
Cross arched a brow.  He hadn’t realized his seemingly doofy,
pseudo-brother-in-law had a cruel streak in him.  Good for Thar.

Nia
closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.  Cross could tell that she was going
to try and convince her twin to show mercy now that they’d won.  With the power
of the entire House, they could easily keep the mob at bay.  And she’d probably
get Tharsis to relent with her persistence, because Nia just plain outthought
and outlasted the competition.

Cross
smiled, slightly.

Princesses
fought.

Moreover,
they made the most energetic reprisals on their opponents, and

as they
were distinctly the tough and fighting element, justice came to her

own with a
whoop.

Theodore
Roosevelt- “An Autobiography"

“Look,
can you use it or not?”  Abel gestured to the walkie-talkie, rapidly losing his
patience.  “You are a damn Wave Phase, right?  You should be able to use
whatever GOS bullshit this thing is emitting to find the other one.”

“The
G
P
S is working fine.”  Story didn’t bother to look up from her video
game as Princess Peach skidded across frozen blocks in
Super Mario Bros. II
. 
“God, buy a TV or something, Abel.  It’s embarrassing how little you know about
the world.”

“Story.” 
Chason wanted to go back to his kingdom and hide in the gloom.  He did not want
to be stuck at the Wave Palace, arguing with a lunatic.  Story was addicted to
vintage video games and even the repetitive synthesized beeps and sound effects
were too close to music for Chason’s peace of mind.  He felt a clawing
sensation inside of him and struggled to ignore it.  “Can you help or not?”

“Theoretically,
yes.  It’s a really high end little device, with the GPS and all.  Anything
that works off a satellite like that, I can manipulate.  And, since I’m soooo
talented, I can probably defy some laws of nature and find the other one of
those things for you.”  She arched a brow and shot Chason a quick glance.  “The
question is… what’s it worth to ya?”

Chason
didn’t blink.  “I’ll pay whatever you want.”

“Oh,
let’s not be trite, Chase.”  Story frowned in concentration as the Princess
balanced on a stream of water from a digital whale.  “What is it
worth
? 
I mean, unless the Reprisal sucks at war games, you’re not going to convince me
that you guys just accidently lost one half of your little toy there.”  She
waved a distracted hand at the walkie-talkie.  “You’re looking for somebody who
has the other one.  So, who is it and why do you want them?”

“Why
do you want to know?”  He retorted.  Story wasn’t interested in much beyond her
Nintendo and Atari collections, so it sure wasn’t any concern for other Phases
making her ask.

“I
don’t know.  I just think it’ll be fun to make you tell me, since you obviously
wanna keep it secret, so much.”  She grinned.

Chason
stared up at the vast ceiling of the Wave Palace and sent up a brief bid for
help, even though he no longer believed in anything that might assist him.

Story
was such a pain-in-the-ass.

Unfortunately,
there were very few Wave Phases left and she was actually the most agreeable of
the lot.  The Wave House controlled electromagnetic waves.  Microwaves, infrared
waves, radio waves and so on, came from them.  Like most Wave Phases, Story was
tall and slim, with a golden brown hair.  The streak at her temple was bright
pink.

Things
would have been so much simpler if the Reprisal had ever recruited someone from
the Wave House.  Then, they could have their own Phase tell them where Nia, or
whoever had left the walkie-talkie, went after the hospital.  Wave Phases were
notoriously odd, though.  You never knew when they might up and switch sides on
you.  Chason would’ve allowed them join the Reprisal, anyway, if one had
actually asked.  He didn’t care who fought and died as long as they took Air
Phases with them.  He’d let in a Radiation Phase, after all, and that House had
always been aligned with the Wave House, since they took care of X-rays, UV,
and radiation.

And
if Chason gave that radioactive bastard a sword, he would’ve armed anybody.

“The
walkie-talkie is part of an investigation.”  He said at length.  “That’s all
you need to know.”

“Investigation
of what?  The Air House?  Wait… Are Parald and Gion having sleepovers, now?” 
She guessed.  “Calling each other from their sleeping bags on little radios?” 
She chuckled at her own image and adopted a static-y voice.  “Come in, Air-hole. 
This is Rubber Duck.  Over.  Hey, did you ever see that
Convoy
movie?  I
mean
wow
!  Classic cinematic cheese.  Speaking of which, Chase, don’t
get too close to my electronics, huh?  You’ll wreck my Blu-ray player with your
energy.”

Abel’s
jaw clenched, obviously wanting to go for her throat.

This
was why Chason had been forced to leave the safe cocoon of his own personal
Fortress of Solitude and traipse over to the Wave Kingdom.  Because, Story and
Abel just didn’t like each other.  Nobody actually got along with either one of
them individually, but putting them together just magnified the dysfunctional
personalities.  When Chason had to be the rational one in a conversation, you
knew things were bleak.

He
shot the television another glare.  A little slot machine game had popped up
awarding Story extra lives.  The jangly tune it emitted as it spun had Chason
cringing.  “Can you turn that off?”  He snapped, more harshly than he’d
intended.  “Just shut the fucking noise
off
.”

Story
glanced at him, sharply.

Oh
shit.

Chason
glared back, even though he now expected her to kick him out of her kingdom and
then release the hounds, for good measure.

Instead,
she dropped the controller and crossed to the sixty-eight inch plasma TV
hanging on the wall of the throne room.  She jacked the volume as high as it
would go, so the sound echoed endlessly in the cavernous room.

Abel
covered his ears with his palms and cursed fluidly in Elemental.

Story
smirked, triumphantly.

Chason
felt himself pale.  It wasn’t the Andrews Sisters, but the music was still
unbearable.  Listening to it was like having a sandblaster turned on high and
aimed at his skin.  The sound reverberated off the empty spaces inside of him,
until he couldn’t even think.  He backed away from the TV so fast that he hit a
table and knocked a vase onto the marble floor.  It shattered into a million,
irreparable pieces.

Chason
didn’t care.

The
small part of his missing heart where his Match still lived moved under the
sounds.  Like it might remember and feel something other than hatred.

No. 
No.  No.

Turning,
he headed for the door.  He’d explode if he didn’t leave.  And if he exploded
someone would get hurt.  Chason knew his temper and what it could do.  He
didn’t want to harm Story.  Mara had always liked the girl.  Besides, then he’d
be utterly screwed, since Story was the only one who could find the other
walkie-talkie.  The noise overwhelmed what little control he managed to hang onto
in his fragmented life, though.  He couldn’t know what he’d do if he stayed.

The
music shut off.

The
sudden secession of noise was almost as jarring as the pounding video game
soundtrack had been.  But, at least, there was no more music.

Chason
stopped, his hand on the door.  He whirled around to confront Story.

She
stared back at him with iridescent blue eyes that saw far too much.  Then, she
swore and backtracked to pick up the walkie-talkie.  “GPS works off radio
waves.  I can bounce radio waves like
Pong
, simple and easy.  The rest
of it…Well, you’re just lucky, I’m a super-being and all.  The
Geek Squad
doesn’t offer the services that I do.  Hang on.”  There was a large pulse of
energy and then she grinned.  “Oh, yeah.  Hail to the queen, Baby.”

“What
the hell does that mean?”  Abel demanded, still pulling on his ears as if his
hearing had been damaged.  “Did you find it?”

“You
didn’t get that?”  She looked over at Chason.  “If
I
had an army, they’d
watch
Army of Darkness
all the time.  I’d
make
them.  I mean,
it’s a given.  You suck at leadership.”

Chason
ignored all of that and refocused on the only things that mattered.

Capturing
Nia and Ty.

Getting
the Quintessence.

Killing
Parald with the Fall.

Ending
the world.

His
vengeance.  His simple, beautiful path to utter silence.

“Did
you discover where the other walkie-talkie is or not?”  He demanded, coldly.

“Yeah,
I got it.” She went back to the sofa and picked up her controller.  “God, don’t
be such a dick.  I’m being nice to you, aren’t I?”

Actually,
yes.  For a Wave Phase, she
was
being very nice, as a matter of fact.

But,
Chason didn’t care.

“Where’s
the walkie-talkie?”  He pressed, feeling anger swelling inside of him and
welcoming the sensation.  “Just tell us so we can go get it.”

“There’s
three more of them, actually.  And I can give you the exact coordinates of
their location, ‘cause they’re all together.”  She smiled. “Seriously, the
Reprisal owes me, big time for this.”

Only at
his maximum does an individual surpass all his derivative

elements,
and become purely himself.

D.H.
Lawrence- “Fantasia of the Unconscious”

Nia
had been the heir apparent to the Water House for the first one hundred and
fifty-eight years of her life.  The oldest child of the king’s brother, she’d
been raised to one day wear the crown.  After Ty had been born, late in her
uncle’s life, Nia had stepped into the role of advisor and protector for her
little cousin.  But, she continued to be a leader; self-confident and sure that
she was loved by her entire family.  Nia never doubted her own worth.

And
why would she?  Everyone adored Nia.  Her uncle and aunt had doted on her,
taking her along to Council meetings from the time she could walk.  Her parents
cherished her.  There wasn’t a moment of her childhood that Nia hadn’t felt
safe and respected.  All her life, she’d had Tharsis for companionship and
support, and Ty had idolized her since the moment she came into the world.  Her
first word had been “Nia.”

Nia
had endured a lot, but she’d never been alone.  Never felt hopeless.  Never
doubted for a second that she was special and important, in some indefinable
way, just because she was Nia.  Secure in the Water Palace, Nia had grown up
with every material thing she’d ever wanted, a flawless education, and so much
love that she never even questioned it.

In
other words, Nia’s life had been the exact opposite of Cross’.

His
existence was the dark mirror image to her own bright, happy memories.

Nia
looked around at Cross’ memories and wanted to go back in time to personally
wipe out every Shadow Phase
herself
, before the Fall had the privilege. 
She wasn’t a violent person.  The Water House had always been the most peaceful
of all the Elementals.  But, Nia could have killed every damn Phase in the
Shadowland and still slept like a baby at night.

Cross
belonged to
her
.  Gaia had given him to her and nobody hurt someone who
belonged to Nia, of the Water House.

“Cross?” 
He couldn’t hear her, but Nia crouched down next the boy her Match had been and
tried to touch his dark hair.  “Oh God, sweetie, don’t watch.”  She tried to
move to block his view, but it didn’t do any good.  This was Cross’ memory and
she wouldn’t be seeing it if he’d looked away from the spectacle playing out in
the town square.

Nia
pressed her lips together and sat down next to him in the dirt.  Cross was
hiding under a wagon, peeking through the spokes of a wheel.  He was so young. 
Just a baby.  His clothes weren’t warm enough for the cold weather and he was so
thin she could count every one of his fragile ribs.  She could see the bruises,
too.

How
could anyone put bruises on her Match?  Didn’t they know how wonderful he was? 
How gentle and selfless?  If this was the way they’d treated their children,
then the Shadow House had
deserved
to be wiped out in the Fall.

Nia
swallowed hard and focused on the woman who had actually managed to supplant
Parald as number one on Nia’s, “If you could kill one person in the world…”
list.  Cross’ mother, at least temporarily, had rocketed up the charts and was
now Nia’s new face of evil.  “You bitch!”  She shouted as Senti, Queen of the
Shadow House stared stone-faced at the guillotine.  “You’re not going to
stop
them?!”

Nia
had seen nothing but misery in Cross’ head so far, but this was the worst thing
yet.  It hadn’t taken more than a few flashes of memory for Nia to know that
her dead mother-in-law was the stupidest, vainest, social climbing-est Phase
ever born.  Oh, Senti had been beautiful.  Anyone who’d contributed half of
Cross’ DNA would’ve had to stunning.  But, the woman had made the dumbest
decision in the universe and traded her Match for an empty crown.

Vice,
the King of the Shadow House lost his Match, in some accident Nia wasn’t real
clear on.  Nia had heard stories of widowed Phases finding another Match, but
-truthfully-  she’d never seen it happen.  She’d never known of a single, real
example of anyone getting a second chance.  You were gifted with one Match and
if you lost them, your life imploded.  Most Phases didn’t even survive the
loss.  Without Cross, Nia wouldn’t want to go on and she hadn’t even known him
a full day, yet.  She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing your Match after so
many centuries together.

Apparently,
Vice skipped a few steps in grieving process and landed right at “acceptance,”
though.  His Match was barely in the ground before he set his sights on
marrying the Elementals’ reigning Scarlett O’Hara, Senti.  She was an Earth
Phase, but Houses intermarried all the time, so that wasn’t the problem.  The
real trouble was Senti hadn’t found her Match and Vice sure wasn’t him.  But,
she sure seemed to love the “Your Majesty-ing” part of being Mrs. Queen of the
Shadowland.

She’d
agreed to a Binding, which basically meant they were married by the Council. 
Without being an actual Phase-Match, they couldn’t Phaze, couldn’t share
memories, and couldn’t have children.  But, Vice already had two or three sons
to carry on the kingdom.  Mean bastards, who Nia also despised.  In theory, Nia
had nothing against Bindings.  Phases got lonely and gave up hope of finding a
Match.  Or maybe they fell in love with someone who wasn’t their Match.  It
happened and why shouldn’t they be allowed to find happiness?  Ty’s situation
with Parald made Nia a big believer in free choice, Phase-Match or not.

But,
a Binding was still a commitment.  A pledge.  There was always a chance that
you might find your Match when you were stuck in a Binding with a different
Phase.

Which
is exactly what happened to Senti.

Cross’
mother had found her Match, a sword maker in the village.  Instead, of going to
the Council and petitioning to break the Binding with Vice, though, Senti had
pulled a modified Marie Antoinette.  She’d tried to have her cake and eat it,
too.  She’d Phazed with the sword maker and stayed in her Binding with Vice.

Somehow
she’d managed to pull it off for a while, mostly because Vice was an oblivious
idiot.  Senti must have been pretty damn smug with herself, until Cross came
along.  Vice knew the kid wasn’t
his
and nobody did pissed-off like the
cuckolded king of darkness.  He’d ordered Cross’ father, Ross, executed.

Senti
insisted that Ross had forced her to Phaze, which just flat out wasn’t
possible.  But, she was hot, so Vice passed on his own Henry the VIII
impression and let her keep her head attached.  Ross had obviously known that
his Match was going to toss him under the bus to save her own tiara and he ran
for it.  Cross had been born and, as far as Nia could tell, everyone hated the
poor thing for not dying in infancy.

Usually,
children followed their mother’s House, so Cross was all the more special for
being a Shadow Phase.  He should have been treasured by his House.  Instead,
they tortured him.  Vice and his sons knocked him into walls, his mother
pretended he wasn’t alive unless she was smacking him around and everyone else
in the Shadowland took turns harassing and bad mouthing the little boy.  And,
so far, Nia was only up to his fourth year of life.  Cross’ memories were so
vivid, even at this early age, that it was ripping her heart out.

Ross
had eventually been caught and put on trial.  That was where most of Nia’s
background information was coming from.  At four years old, Cross knew what was
happening and he watched
all
of it.  He stayed silent, hidden in the
endless shadows, and took in the cruel world around him.  Nia would have traded
anything
to be able to take his miniature hand and lead him away from
the town square, so he wouldn’t witness this.

She
could see the tragedy looming and not one Shadow Phase was going to stop it.

“Oh
God.”  She whispered as Ross was led to the guillotine set up for the
Shadowland’s viewing pleasure.  “Please.”

The
executioner read a list of crimes that Ross had been convicted of.  He was a
gorgeous man, like a slightly shorter version of Cross with angry, brown eyes. 
The recitation of his offences didn’t seem to register with him.  Instead, he
kept his eyes on Senti.

When
they asked if he had any last words, Ross spoke right to her.  “I’ve done
nothing wrong, Senti, and you know it. 
You’re
wrong.  Everything you
are and everything about you is
wrong
.  I wish I’d never met you and I
wish the boy had never been born.  With you for a mother, he’ll grow up just as
wrong as you are, you traitorous whore.”

Beside
her, Cross flinched and Nia saw red.  “Execute the bastard!”  She roared.  Up
until that point, she’d been feeling bad for Ross, but he was almost as bad as
Senti.  Granted, he didn’t know Cross was listening, still that wasn’t going to
buy him any forgiveness.  He’d just wished his own son dead!  Ross jumped to
number three of Nia’s “If you could kill anyone…” list, right after Senti and
Vice.

For
all her anger at the man, though, Nia still couldn’t watch as the guillotine
blade slowly rose over his head.  “Cross.”  She implored, when he just kept
staring at his father with damp, mercury eyes.  “Sweetie, please, don’t…”

There
was a sudden “crack,” the “swishing” sound of the blade cutting through air and
then the omissions “thawump” as it hit its target.

Nia
and Cross cringed in perfect unison.

As
the crowd cheered, Nia wondered queasily if Ross had been the sword maker who’d
created the blade that just killed him.  It didn’t seem right.  None of this
was right.

Still
expressionless, Senti, climbed down from her seat as the executioner held up
Ross’ severed head.  She walked back towards the castle.

Cross
put his head down in his skinny arms and wept.

Nia’s
soul shattered.

The
scene changed and Nia was so grateful she nearly cried herself.  She tried to
focus on anything, other than what she’d just seen and her surroundings were as
good a choice as any.  They were in the Shadow Castle now.  Crap.  That wasn’t
much better, at all, actually.

Cross’
homeland was so magical, with twisting darkness and grey moors.  Nia couldn’t
understand why Vice insisted on keeping his castle in such a dreadful state. 
The whole place was a dark and gloomy.  And not in an atmospheric “medieval
Scotland chic” kinda way, which would have actually suited the Castle
perfectly.  And which, now that Nia was Queen of Shadow House, was
exactly
how it would be decorated from now on.  Instead, it was just cold and dirty,
with a hint of menace lurking in the corners.  She was actually thankful that
they’d banished Cross to that shack at the edge of town two memories ago,
rather than have him grow up someplace so threatening.

“You
psychotic
bitch
.”

Nia’s
head whipped around.  She recognized that perfect voice, even if she’d never
heard it so full of anger before.  “Job?”  She moved so she was looking into a
sitting area.  A gigantic fire blazed in the hearth, sending shadows creeping
around the darkened interior of the room.

Senti,
dressed in a red velvet gown, glowered up at Job in disgust.  “There’s nothing
you can do about it now, so save me your insults, brother.  I no longer answer
to the Earth House.”

Brother?

Nia’s
eye brows shot up.  She hadn’t known Job had a sister.  Her gaze went to the
grass green streaks at both of their temples.  That was pretty much the only
resemblance between them.  Senti had a dark, lush beauty about her and the
exotic mercury eyes that her son had inherited.  If she set her sights on
another crown, she was a prime contender for Miss Elemental any year she wanted
to enter the contest.

Job,
on the other hand, wasn’t exactly beautiful.  In a species as universally
lovely as the Elementals, he always looked a little bit… different.  Not ugly
or unattractive, just not as refined.  More planes and angles to his face, a
squarer set to his jaw.  His rough appearance was completely at odds with the
conservative clothes he favored.

Dressed
in a human suit, covered with the flowing black robe of the Council, Job could
have presided over any court in the universe.  He wore his pure white hair
pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a leather cord.  A thousand years had
passed since Job was a child, but, in human terms, he still looked like he was
in his thirties.  It was his eyes that gave away his real age.  A vivid shade
of green that matched the highlight in his hair, they stayed permanently
shadowed with all the burdens he carried.

Aside
from her father and uncle, Nia had always though Job was the wisest man in the
world.  He’d let her sit in his Council chair when she was younger, while he
patiently explained the ins and outs of Elemental law to her.  Job was a god to
Nia, even if she occasionally called him a blind idiot and disobeyed his orders
to forget about the Quintessence.  She loved him for his meticulous, patient,
by-the-book-ness.  Nia had certainly never heard Job shout obscenities at
anyone before.  It was amazingly out of character.  Why was he even in the
Shadowland?  Where was Cross in this memory?